Halfway through Chemo!

Halfway through Chemo!

by | Jun 27, 2024 | Thoughtful Thursdays

This week marks a milestone in my breast cancer treatment–I just completed the third chemo infusion on Monday, which puts me officially halfway through this part! Woot! After chemo I’ll still have surgery and radiation, so the WHOLE journey isn’t halfway done, but even so, I’m rejoicing at this part.

I knew that chemo wasn’t likely to be fun, and that has certainly proven to be the case. I was at first quite hopeful that Round 2 would prove easier than Round 1, when some of the symptoms I was experiencing by Thursday in the first round hadn’t hit…then came a UTI, along with a wee little fainting spell as a result of it that landed me in the emergency room for an afternoon. I got to have all sorts of tests run to rule out the passing out being caused by a heart problem, and everything they ran looked clear. Of course, they were still careful to say they couldn’t rule it out, but when they offered to let me stay in the hospital all weekend for more prolonged testing, I declined their gracious offer. 😉 My team in Morgantown agrees that the UTI and the dehydration it had caused was the most likely culprit, so unless there’s a new symptom to indicate heart issues, we can assume UTI is to blame for that one.

I had some heartburn that weekend, and then the following Friday and Saturday, I woke up both days feeling GREAT…then in the afternoons experienced my first bouts of nausea that resulted in throwing up. Not my favorite thing in the world, I gotta say! I had a few rough days of many trips to the bathroom, then a few days where I felt great and perfectly normal, aside from being tired. Happily, one of those fell on my sister’s birthday. =)

It was a wonderful day! David and I had gone out to dinner on our anniversary two days before, and that was nice too…but I still came home and had to run to the bathroom multiple times while we were watching a movie (Asteroid City. Did you see it? Did you like it? We were kinda left going “What in the world was that??” at the end. Definitely not going on my favorites list, though it didn’t quite rate the “Can I have my two hours back?” list, I guess).

On Wednesday, though, I felt like me as I went to coffee and brunch with my mom, my sister, and one of her best friends. We laughed and chatted and I enjoyed being a redhead with my “Ariel” wig. 😉

And I started writing my next book that Wednesday! No writing retreat word counts or anything, but I got over 7,000 words written by the end of last week, and am off to a great start this week too. It just feels so very me to have my head in a story and to be spending my mornings working on it. =)

On Friday, I took all my wigs with me to the wonderful woman who has been cutting my hair since I was, like, six. She shortened the Ariel for me (waist-length was just a bit unwieldly and tangled too much), shaped up the bangs on Sunny Blond and Sassy Purple, and made a real-human-hair brunette wig a client sent to me look modern and sleek instead of too-much-for-my-little-head. She agreed that the purple and red are her favorites for me! I had a great time laughing with her…before coming home to a second weekend of puking and intestinal distress. =/ Thankfully, once I started the 3-day course of steroids that surround each chemo infusion (so started on Sunday), I started feeling good again.

I didn’t try to write during the infusion on Monday, though I’d had it in mind as a possibility. One of the pre-meds they give me makes me really drowsy though, and between that and the wonderful nurses stopping in every half hour to change out this or that, I decided that writing didn’t make a lot of sense. So instead, I worked on a round of edits I’m doing for an upcoming WhiteCrown title, Christmas in the Castle Library, which I am THOROUGHLY enjoying! The author is Ann Swindell, who is well established as a non-fiction author, but this will be her debut novel. I don’t do a lot of editing these days, but I couldn’t turn down this one! When one of Ann’s beautiful non-fiction books on peace came out, she sent me a signed copy out of the blue, with a note saying how much she loved my novels, and how she wanted to give me her book in the hopes that it would resonate with me as my words do with her. I was so touched! It’s a gorgeous book, one of those gift-quality ones with blue ink and beautiful layout and design, and I really loved it. So when she submitted a royal Christmas story…well, I was excited that our team loved it so much and volunteered to take a round of edits.

So that’s how I passed my time during Infusion 3, quite happily. They got me in early this time, and I’m now on the short-as-it-can-be infusion with no big waits between things, since everything went well on the previous two rounds. We were out of there by 3 in the afternoon and actually home in time for dinner, for once!

I obviously don’t know how these next weeks will go yet–there could be more nausea, likely more trips to the bathroom. I’m all stocked up on the BRAT diet stuff if that hits–bananas, white rice, applesauce (homemade from Honeycrisp apples and so yummy!), and white bread for toast. Foods I’ve been largely avoiding lately thanks to the high carbs, but I’m firmly in the “eat what helps and tastes good” category just now. Also got some crackers and potatoes (which help absorb all the ickies in the belly) and am careful to stay better hydrated this time!

And I have big plans to wear the purple wig to church this coming Sunday. 😉 I had to skip last week because of too-frequent trips to the potty, but here’s hoping that won’t happen this week!

Let’s see, what else has been going on? The physical stuff, starting the new book…and lots of reading! I’m on track to hit my goal of 100 books this year, and I’m really enjoying it. Over the weekend I read the first two books in Gabrielle Meyer’s Timeless series and really loved them! I’m now reading the second Caraval novel, Legendary, and also a reread of The Secret Garden, which I haven’t read since I was ten, LOL. I wanted to have the characters in the novel I’ve just started writing talk about it, though, so needed a refresh. I buzzed through half of it on Tuesday evening and am remembering why I loved it so much as a kid! (And I totally paid $12 for this cute collector’s hardback instead of $6 for a little paperback, because how cute is this??*)

 I think that’s mostly it. My adorable stack of cards keeps growing, and I just have to say a big “Thank you, friends!!” yet again to everyone who has sent these notes of encouragement. I’m so touched at those friends who send a note each week, or for each infusion. I honestly expected it all to taper off after the first infusion, but instead I keep getting what I’m dubbing “encouragement bombs” around each treatment. Brings the happiest sort of tears to my eyes! I love the homemade gifts some of you have taken so much time to create for me, and the thoughtful gifts of tummy-easy candies, the books, the bath and body products, and just all the things that show you care and are remembering me in this time. It means the world! As do all the donations of money and restaurant gift cards and the like. They are making our life so much easier, with all the out of town trips and tired afternoons! (Here’s the link to the official Meal Train, which also has my mailing address for those of you who have asked for it, for sending a card.)

So…yeah. Thank you so much for all the continued prayers, the emails, the Facebook messages, the cards, the gifts, and the support in every possible way. I continue to feel so surrounded by the love of God through His precious children. I know, even when I’m hanging miserably over a toilet, that this the path toward healing and that I am so far from being alone.

I think one of the biggest blessings so far has been getting to talk to others walking this same path (or similar ones). A young woman about my age that I know from our old homeschool group but who I haven’t talked to in years saw my posts and reached out, having just had her own biopsy. She too has cancer, though they caught hers sooner, so she’s having surgery first. It’s been a blessing to get to talk to her and share what I’ve learned about our local system and just be able to answer her questions and walk alongside her–just as so many have been doing for me!

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Faith Is a Verb

Faith Is a Verb

by | Jun 20, 2024 | Thoughtful Thursdays

When I consider the word faith, I have a major beef with the English language. In English, faith is just a noun. A thing we have.

In Greek, faith has a noun form…made from a VERB form.

Just pause and ponder that for a moment. I know I had to the first time I heard that. FAITH IS A VERB. Like love, like trust, like hope. All of those have both noun and verb forms in English…so why doesn’t faith??

We have believe, but that isn’t quite the same thing. I believe that we have politicians in Washington, but I sure don’t put my faith in them all the time, LOL. I believe that the sun will rise tomorrow (somewhere behind all the rain clouds), but I don’t put my faith in the sun. I believe that my children will do great things, but I don’t have faith that they can save me from my sins.

When we have love, we act in love.
When we have trust, we act in trust.
When we have hope, we act in hope.

And when we have faith, we act in faith.

We love, we trust, we hope…and we faith. There, I’m just going to start using it as a verb. 😉

Because it’s important, isn’t it? It’s important to realize that faith is not just something we hold in our hearts or our minds or our souls, wherever it rightly lives. Faith is something we act on. Faith is something we DO. When we “faith,” we love, trust, and hope in God (ideally, though plenty of people put their faith in other things, obviously). When we “faith,” we share that love, that trust, and that hope with others.

The Ancient Greek word here is πιστεύειν, which we have to translate into English as “I trust”…because there’s no other English word for it. In modern Greek, a form of that word is still used in legal cases for “a trust; a credit.” And those are pretty good synonyms, really.

I trust that God made the universe.
I trust that God sent His Son to earth out of love for me.
I trust that He is good.
I trust that has saved me through the blood of that Son.
I trust that seeking after Him, believing in Him, accepting that sacrifice will lead me to eternity with Him.
I trust that He has my good always in mind.
I trust that there is no valley, no shadow that is beyond His reach.
I trust that He is with me always, even to the end of the age.

I trust that, enough that I’d swear to it legally, enough that I store my treasure in it. I believe that. I faith that.

In English, when we take something “on faith,” we’re admitting that we have no solid, physical evidence, but we’ll act on it anyway. That kinda grates on me as a turn of phrase. Because when we “faith,” when we act on faith, it is not something rooted in our fancies. It’s something of substance. Because faith (the noun) IS the substance of things hoped for. Faith IS the evidence of things unseen.

And it IS those things largely because it DOES. It ACTS. It is a verb.

Which then puts a challenge to us, doesn’t it? Is our faith something we just have…which means we can put it on a shelf, ignore it, forget about it…or is faith something we do?

How are we hoping today? How are we trusting? How are we loving?

How are we faithing?

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Poor Marmalade

Poor Marmalade

by | Jun 13, 2024 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Yesterday was my husband David’s birthday, Monday is our 23rd wedding anniversary, and so I thought it would be fun today to just share some of our silliness. These are a few of the inside jokes that we laugh endlessly over. And just something fun for the occasions. 😉

Poor Marmalade

If you’ve read the Ladies of the Manor Series, then you not only met Brook and Justin, Rowena and Brice, Ella and Cayton, you may also remember that Cayton had a wife who died, named Adelaide.

Well, the first time I wrote this series (seven years before I rewrote it into the form you now know), David read the book, realized that Cayton’s sickly first wife was destined to die, and took me to task for it. “Are you seriously creating a character just to kill her?” he said. “Poor Marmalade.”

Cue my laughter. “Marmalade?”

“You know. His wife.”

“Adelaide.”

“Like I said. Marmalade.”

That has, at this point, been sixteen or seventeen years ago. But every single time marmalade is mentioned in our house, David will say, “Poor Marmalade.” (I giggle even typing this.) Which is especially relevant now, because we’ve become a bit obsessed with ChocZero Orange Marmalade–sugar free, naturally sweetened, and DELICIOUS. One or the other of us has some on a slice of homemade bread pretty much daily, which has provided many opportunities for the “Poor Marmalade” joke.

It never gets old.

Polly’s Pub

If you’ve read the Shadows Over England series, then you know Pauly, the owner of the pub that the family frequents, who has always been like a father or uncle to Rosemary, Willa, Barclay, and the rest of the crew.

Well in our hometown, we had for a while a restaurant David and I loved, called Churchill’s Pub. It served traditional British fare and was just delightful.

One evening we were driving past it, while I was up to my eyeballs writing the Secrets of the Isles series and hence was working through what pirate lore I intended to weave into my current one.

Then David said something that I heard as, “If we ever have a pub, we should name it Polly’s.”

I looked at him in utter confusion. “Why? Would it be pirate themed?”

David looked back at me with equal confusion. “Why would it be pirate themed?”

“I don’t know. But if you want to name it after a pirate’s parrot–you know, ‘Polly wants a cracker’–I thought…”

Image of him blinking at me. Then blinking again. “Not Polly. Pauly. The pub owner. You know–Barclay and company’s Pauly?”

Cue the laughter. And now every time we drive past that building (the pub shut down during Covid and never reopened), I think of Pauly-Polly’s Pub.

Jerry!

David and I have been watching The Walking Dead since it was new, and one of our favorite things was actually watching Talking Dead afterward, hosted by the hilarious Chris Hardwick. There’s a season where we meet the people of “The Kingdom,” which is run by “The King.” The King had a trusty guard named Gerry–a huge fellow who looks Samoan (not sure if he is or not), who is also one of those people who is just a giant teddy bear, always happy and laughing. His character always called everybody “dude,” and he was so not a medieval knight, that it was just hilarious every time he sauntered onto the stage in the Kingdom.

The king, when he needed Gerry, would bellow out, “Gerry!” in a very dramatic way. Which Chris Hardwick would imitate in Talking Dead. He was big on recurring gags, so pretty much every time he said the character’s name in later years, he would bellow it like that. “Gerrrrrrryyyy!”

Well, last autumn David and I were talking about Revelation (I’d been reading a book called The Lamb’s Supper that explains Revelation through the liturgy, which made SO MUCH SENSE), and David asked why I thought the modern church was so preoccupied with End Times.

Now, I belong to a writers group in which Jerry B. Jenkins is also a member–and he is a funny, witty, intelligent man who has often said such clever things that I laugh out loud and have to report the witticism to David. Jerry also finds it so amusing that while in decades past he was very famous for his broke-all-records-in-the-publishing-word Left Behind Series, he’s now just known as “Dallas Jenkins’s dad.” But suffice it to say that Jerry Jenkins has come up in conversation plenty in our house over the years.

So when David asked that question about our preoccupation with the End Times, what was I to do but bellow out, “Jeeerrrryyyy!” as the King always bellowed “Gerry!”?

It’s a joke that seriously five people in the world might get. But also, according to my beloved husband, the single funniest, cleverest thing I’ve ever said in my life.

Speaking of Jerry’s…

Growing up, we had a Jerry’s Pizza in our mall. It’s no longer there. Frankly, there isn’t much left in our mall. We were discussing this a few weeks ago, and the restaurants we miss, and David said how Jerry’s had never been his favorite pizza.

“I wouldn’t say it was my favorite,” I said. “But I have really fond memories of it. I still remember going there for the first time with my best friend, not with my family. It was the first time I got to order a pizza, how I wanted it. My family always got pepperoni, and I would always pick it off. That was the first place I ever just got a cheese pizza for me.”

David made an “awww” sound. “Now I feel bad. You’re back to picking off pepperoni.”

“Well if you recall, we used to get two pizzas–a pepperoni for you and a cheese for me. But then those darn kids came along and started eating all my cheese pizza, so I had to go back to sharing yours!”

David laughed and said, “I’m going to tell them you said that!”

I beat him to it and told it to Rowyn, who just started cackling at “those darn kids.” They still steal all the cheese pizza, but that’s okay. I pick the pepperoni off and then eat them with the crust, which gives me both cheese pizza and a pepperoni roll. 😉

What Says Moo?

My darling husband was one of those who would do anything to make the kids belly-laugh when they were little (and he still does. Rowyn never disappoints). When they started learning their animal sounds, one of his favorite games was deliberately messing them up, which would inevitably bring hoots of laughter from the little ones, who knew very well that the dog didn’t say “meow” and the horse didn’t bark.

His favorite was to attribute “moo” to everything. Duck? Moo! Pig? Moo! Dinosaur? Moo!

(Don’t worry, the kids are quite proficient in actual animal sounds. They knew not to take Papa seriously. But they got years of laughter from it.)

But much like Chris Hardwick, David does not ever let a good gag go, and his commitment to a bit is unsurpassed. Our kids may now be 18 and 16, but he still calls cows “mooers” and greets pretty much any animal with “Moo!” His most famous is recent years is a little nonsense song he’ll break into a moment’s notice, which has lyrics of “Moo, moo, rhinoceroses moo-moo, moo moo moo. Rhinoceroses! Moo moo…” I keep telling him he needs to record it make some stupid little animation for it. It could totally be the next “Baby Shark”…

It’s a Beautiful Thing.

Another courtesy of The Walking Dead. There’s a part where one character does something utterly stupid, and when another character calls him on it, he pretty much admits that stupid is his calling card. She shakes her head and says, “Self awareness is a beautiful thing.”

We talk a lot about self-awareness in our house. It’s important, and it’s also something quite a lot of society seems to be lacking these days, so yeah. It comes up.

So now, anytime one of us is less-than-perfect but admits it, someone else will pipe up with, “Well, it’s a beautiful thing.”

After 23 years together, we have way more inside jokes than this, of course, but in the interest of not boring you to tears…I’ll leave it at that for now. Hope you got a chuckle. And I would love to hear some of YOUR family’s inside jokes!

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Take Up Your Sword

Take Up Your Sword

by | Jun 6, 2024 | Thoughtful Thursdays

In Luke 22, Jesus tells His disciples during the Last Supper that the time has come to have swords, and that if they don’t have them, they should sell their cloak to buy one.

It’s a curious passage, isn’t it? Especially given that when one of them uses that sword later that same night when people come to arrest Jesus, He rebukes them and heals the wound inflicted.

Several years ago, we were discussing this passage with some friends, and the conversation–or at least my own thoughts during it, LOL–have stuck with me.

I looked it up and actually found this great article on it that I highly recommend–it strikes me as spot-on and evaluates this command in context. You can read it here.

The article (in case you don’t go and read it) points out that this entire passage is all about that night, about what’s about to happen–Jesus’s arrest. And he says that they must carry swords to fulfill the prophesy that He will be numbered among the transgressors. The reasoning the article gives for this being a fulfillment of that is that because the group was armed, those coming to arrest Christ would view them as hostile and label Him a criminal.

That makes total sense to me. And fits well with the thoughts I’d had that evening a few years ago, as we pondered this question.

Because Jesus told them to have swords–but He did not tell them to use them. He, in fact, was quite frustrated when Peter did so.

I imagine the disciple, like so many of us, would have thought, “Why did you tell me to bring it if you didn’t want me to use it??”

It’s a fascinating question. And fits perfectly with the kind of radical approach Christ had in the world. Yes, He overturned money tables in the Temple–but He also offered mercy over justice to the woman caught in adultery. He called out hypocrites, but when towns didn’t welcome Him and His disciples wanted to rain down terror on them, He was quick to chastise them.

Belief in Him causes division that often leads to violence–but He’d already given instruction on what to do when people strike out at you. Turn the other cheek. Don’t fight. Don’t flee. Stay there and offer them something they’ve never seen before.

This, I think, is a way to view the bringing of swords into the Garden of Gethsemane. Because your radical peacemaking cannot be appreciated if you’re only viewed as a victim. It’s striking when you could fight, but don’t. It’s striking when you choose the way of peace, even in the face of the enemy bearing down.

Peter didn’t make that choice in the garden. He struck out–asking if he should and then not waiting for the answer.

But we see Christ’s answer as He miraculously reattaches the servant’s ear. “Enough of this,” He says. This was not supposed to be about retaliation or even self-defense. This was supposed to be about peace, about salvation. And so, He brought healing. He called out his opponents for chasing after them with swords, when He and His disciples had never been aggressive in such a way. His enemies had no reason to suspect Jesus and His group of violence. Because they were not violent–not under His guidance.

But oh, how quick they forgot that in the face of fear and opposition. How quick they forgot it when they were offended. How quick they were to slash with the sword or threaten destruction to a town. They didn’t understand. Not yet. They hadn’t yet been remade.

And yet after Christ died, rose again, and ascended into Heaven, we see different behavior from the disciples, now filled with the Spirit. We see them never fighting back. They simply accept arrest, persecution, stoning, whipping. Over and over again. Never do we hear them advising the early church to sell their cloaks for swords so they can defend themselves. Instead, we see them at most hiding or fleeing, but just as often waiting for whatever punishment their neighbors want to give them.

And you know what? We know from history that this is why Christianity flourished. Because they spoke more boldly through that radical peace than they could have with shouts and swords. They cut the observers through, not with a blade but with their example. When early Christians were martyred, their joyous accepting of death converted the very people who had sentenced them to death.

Do you know the history of the word “Christian”? We’ve all probably heard that it means “Little Christ,” and Acts tells us that it was first used in Antioch. But what we may not understand simply by reading that verse is that it was a criminal sentence. Christianity was illegal in Antioch, because it defied the state religion. So for those there to create this label was to say, “These people are rebels.” It was to say, “These people are guilty of crimes worthy of death.”

And what did the Christians do? They embraced it. The embraced the label, which was not a good word to the people who created it, but which they knew spoke a deep truth. “If following Christ is a criminal activity,” they were saying, “then yes. We are criminals.”

But they didn’t fight the opposition. There were no coups. They accepted the label, knowing it could mean their deaths, and rejoicing over the possibility of being honored enough to die for their cause, for belief in their Savior.

I wonder sometimes what Jesus would say to us today. We are so quick to condemn people to death. So quick to defend our own rights to violence. So quick to strike with the sword. So quick to call it virtuous.

And I pray that even we mess up, even when we act in a way He surely wouldn’t want, that He continues to step forward and heal the damage we do, creating more followers through it. We certainly aren’t always the best example of Christian. But He, always, is.

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Pink Isn’t My Color

Pink Isn’t My Color

by | May 30, 2024 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Pink Isn’t My Color

How We Decide What Becomes Part of Our Identities

 

I had called the week before–both my primary care’s office and the radiology place that had done the biopsy. I’d been waiting two weeks for the results…but everyone was out of town, on vacation. So I called my PC’s office again, two weeks to the day after I’d had the biopsy done. The friendly receptionist told me about the problems they’d been having getting test results from the place that had done it, thanks to technical difficulties, but she reached out specifically to them.

And then said something I knew was bad news: “Can you come in at 12:45 today?”

We all know that they give good news over the phone. We all know that if they ask to see you, it’s not good news. So I rearranged my day, and my husband and I went in.

Even so, as my PC broke the news that I have breast cancer and went through what they knew thus far, I had the silliest thought:

But pink isn’t my color!

I know, I know. It’s a weird reaction. But it stayed there in the back of my mind all through the next weeks and the next steps. And it stayed because, I think, it represents something far deeper for me.

I don’t want to be identified as someone with breast cancer.

I finally put it into words a week or so later, as my husband and I sat in the car waiting for our son to come out of youth group. Words he needed, because they hit on something he’d been struggling with too.

First, allow me to offer this: I take no issue with people choosing to incorporate these battles into their identity. Whether it’s being a cancer survivor or a Type 1 Diabetic warrior, or parent or spouse or sibling, whether it’s being a Wounded Warrior or a stroke survivor or anything else–we all choose what we incorporate into our identities, and we have a right to do that. No judgment from me whatsoever. Allow me to also say that I’ve gotten some pink gifts in the last few weeks, and I am so, SO touched and grateful, and I love each one. As I walk through this cancer journey, I love seeing the ribbons that remind me that I’m not alone, and that we’re all fighting together. I love the pink pashmina shawl, and the beautiful bracelet. But much like most of my other articles of clothing and accessories, they may be something I wear, but they’re not who I am.

Because in our family, we tend to come down on it this way:

The only things that get to become part of our identity are the things we choose. Things that happen to us don’t get to define us.

Now, that said…how you react to the situations and circumstances you find yourself in IS a choice. And that’s why so many choose to embrace those things and identify with them. Which is why I’m A-okay with it.

But I look at our circumstances as the things that shape us into who we need to be to fulfill the call God has put on our lives. Those are the words my husband said to me as we were racing to the hospital while our son was being flown by helicopter to Pittsburgh Children’s PICU, in DKA from the onset of diabetes.

And it’s something we’ve lived out since. I’m in lots of groups for families of Type 1 Diabetics, and I know how much it governs the lives of many, many families. I see the water bottles and T-shirts and stickers they wear. Because they are warriors–the kids and their parents–and they’re proud of it.

But my son doesn’t want any of those things. My son is totally chill and laid back and deals with his disease responsibly. He doesn’t get upset by it. But he also doesn’t want it. If they announce a pill next week that will manage it all for him, he will be first in line. He would give it up if he could. Diabetes is something that happened to him–but he does not define himself as a diabetic. He doesn’t deny being one, and he’s not the type to ever be like, “No, call me ‘a person who has diabetes, not a diabetic'” because he knows that amounts to the same thing. But if Rowyn were to write his bio, it would probably say something like, “Avid gamer, good at math but hates it, loves the colors blue and black, can spend all day building things, whether physically or on the computer.” Nowhere in there would he feel the need to mention that he wears a CGM (continuous glucose monitor) or an OmniPod insulin pump. He accepts it as his reality–but not as his identity.

And that’s exactly how I feel about this breast cancer. I accept that it is my current reality. I accept that I have to deal with it, and I will. I’ll handle it responsibly, and I’ll be open and vulnerable about it, just like I am about Rowyn’s Type 1.

But you know what? Pink isn’t my color. I’m not going to wear the T-shirt. I’m not going to get the stickers. I’m not going to drink from the water bottle. Not because I mind other people doing those things–and I will cheer you on if I see you with that pink ribbon! But because this is not who I am. This is just what I’m going through right now. I plan to be a breast cancer survivor, a thriver. I feel such camaraderie for the others who have gone or are going (or will go) through it. Yes, we are a band of sisters who never would have chosen this path but who will walk it in faith. I embrace the sisters. I’ll share the story.

But it’s just a chapter–it’s not my whole book. It’s just a challenge–it’s not what defines the competitor. It’s my reality, not my identity.

How do we decide what becomes part of our identities?

We choose. We choose what we leave as our legacy. We choose what we focus on. If you’ve chosen to embrace being a warrior and the battle you’ve been through, that’s awesome.

But I am not a warrior. I am someone who sometimes go to battle. It’s what I do–it’s not who I am.

I am the Beloved of God. I am the daughter of Ron and Karen. I am the sister of Jennifer. I am the wife of David. I am the mother of Xoe and Rowyn. I am a writer. I am a friend. Those things are what I will let define me, be part of my identity. The people I love, the calling God put on my heart, the words He put in my mouth (or in my fingers, LOL), the belonging to Him.

You can strip away my human relationships, you can take my physical abilities, you can even strip away my words, and my core being will still be intact, because it’s rooted in Him. But I am happiest with my people, with my books.

Not with my cancer. Strip that away, and I’ll still be me. But when it is taken away–and I believe it will be–I’ll be a stronger version of me. That’s what the battles are for. To shape us and strengthen us, and even to break down the parts of us that God knows we’re better off without. The Roseanna that emerges will be a better Roseanna than the one who stepped onto this path that Tuesday in her primary care’s office.

And she won’t be wearing pink.

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Update on Roseanna

Update on Roseanna

by | May 23, 2024 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Well, here I am, 10 days after my first infusion of chemotherapy. So many of you have reached out privately to say you’re praying and ask how I’m doing–and many just say you’re praying and don’t want to be a bother so say I don’t have to reply, LOL. So I thought I’d do an official update.

As David drove me to the hospital on Monday, May 13, and asked what I was feeling, my answer was that I was…curious. I like to know things. How was I going to react to the chemo itself, as it went in? (That first time they do it super slowly to watch for allergic reactions.) How would I react over the next couple of days and weeks? Whether the answers were what I wanted or not, I was glad to be to the point where I’d be discovering them.

I have to say that one of the most impactful things about the whole experience has been how wonderful the staff are at the hospital we’re going to. It’s a 90-minute drive but worth every minute. I just went up again yesterday for another biopsy, and it struck me anew–everyone was so loving, so thoughtful, so conscientious of me and my needs. And that’s been true of absolutely everyone I’ve encountered. The infusion itself went great, and my biggest praise since is that I can already feel the tumor shrinking. Praise God for that! And the bone scan last week agreed with the CT that nothing has spread, so I am so grateful and relieved about that!

The first five days were relatively fine afterward. My taste buds are definitely weird right now–anything salty just tastes totally bland to me, a normal dusting of black pepper burns my mouth, but sweet stuff still tastes fairly normal. (Bring on the chocolate! LOL) Thursday I began experiencing the most common side effect of this particular treatment, which is, ahem, intestinal distress. The weekend wasn’t fun, I admit it. I’ve had quite a few queasy days. And I haven’t been able to sleep well, so I’m more tired than I’d hoped to be.

But it’s starting to ease up. When I’m writing this, I feel pretty normal. That can change minute to minute, but I’m enjoying the respite…along with some of the other oddities that I’ve noticed. The last couple of days, soft things feel so soft. I know that sounds weird, but when I lean against a blanket, it just feels like it envelopes me in cushiness. The bed feels awesome when I lie down. The car seat was so comfortable. It’s absolutely bizarre, LOL, but also nice. And thanks to that shrinkage already, I can sleep on my side again for the first time in months! And for whatever reason, body odor has vanished. Didn’t see that one coming, but I’ll take it!

For several days last week, my scalp felt very tender, but that has gone away. I was warned that hair loss couple begin immediately and that it most commonly hits at 2-3 weeks after the first treatment and can really strike any time. So far, nothing abnormal there. But I’m prepared. I have my crazy purple wig (I tried it on, y’all, and I didn’t even recognize myself! LOL) and a pretty white lightweight knit chemo hat thing. So, you know, if I wake up bald before church one morning, I don’t have to panic.

So there we go. I’ve had a few rough days, but nothing debilitating thus far. And I continue to be so, so blessed by the flood of cards and little gifts and donations. Some from good friends, some from people whose names I don’t even recognize, all of which fill me with such humbleness and love. God is so good, and His children are reflecting that so clearly in my life right now. Please know that I treasure every note, every prayer, and every thought. I’m saving up all the cards that have come in, and it’s a mighty pile already! Just seeing it there by my desk fills my heart with such peace.

This may not be the road I would have chosen freely, but it’s a road filled with beauty nevertheless. A road filled with love and joy and peace. Thank you for reminding me every step of the way that I’m not alone.

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