Did I Shave My Legs For This???

Written word…oh how I have missed you!  And six days into 2012, I realize that I have yet to welcome in the new year with my review of 2011.  So here it goes, the top 4 things I learned in 2011 (in no particular order, and I’m sure there was a great deal more, but these were the things that stood out the most to me!)

1.  Chai Tea = Blessed Goodness in my mouth!   The biggest thing I have experienced this year in regards to my journey with Cancer is that no matter how much I had hoped for it, my mouth has reached a plateau on healing, and I am now dealing with the long term effects of the Radiation Therapy, including a lack of saliva and taste.   As was documented in my last blog, I chose to combat the physical side effects with a physical reminder of my journey through a permanent tattoo. (As a side note, I still love it, have no regrets, and it has actually opened the door to share my story of God’s love and hope in my life with many others!) With that lack of taste becomes a fun and exciting game of what is Kelli going to like today!? Thus led me to my new addiction of Chai Tea. Unfortunately or fortunately for me (however you prefer to look at it), there is a Starbucks Coffee Chain located directly across the street from work, and unfortunately or once again fortunately, however, you choose to look at it, I have learned that no matter what my taste buds are doing on any given day, Chai Tea appears to be the ONE item, beverage or otherwise, that remains the constant in my life. And so on workdays, I have indulged myself in a “Grande Nonfat Chai Tea Latte”…to the chagrin of my pocketbook, but the utter delight of my t-buds! My New Years Resolution was going to be to cut my Grande down to a Tall size and work on five days a week to no more than two, but my sister-in-law, Emily, bless her beautiful heart, graced my Christmas gift with a lovely liquid-filled box, a box that just so happens to be the dollar amount of one Grande drink at Starbucks but will last me through an entire week for half the calories! So this year in 2012, I resolve to make my own Tazo ORGANIC Chai Tea from home! Cheers to Emily!

2.  My mother taught me from an early age that the majority of friendships are only here for a season and there will be very few that remain for a lifetime. This year I learned when someone intentionally leaves your life, no matter what the reason, God has someone waiting in the wings to fill that empty space. During my illness, I watched several close friends walk away and to be honest, they never returned.  As I have shared previously, there have been up and down moments trying to mend those hurts but with each passing day, the questions become a little less and the wound closes a little more.  When I returned to work in March 2011, I started in a new department with co-workers I knew only from brief encounters through my other position. Who knew the treasure that was waiting for me? They welcomed me openly and have become the family that keeps me going in the tough times and brings me joy in the most mundane moments! Our work is crazy and chaotic and extremely fast-paced, but we always find the time to take a quick break in the day where we roll our chairs out from inside our cubicles and have a debrief in the middle of the aisle to check in on one another and share some laughs. Then there are the days where we all throw up our hands and say, “I’m done, I’ve gotta get outta here!” and we venture outside into the sun and breathe in the fresh air while mingling with the outside world. As cliche as it might sound, they have truly become the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and I’m so blessed and thankful to call them my friends!

2.   Remember the old adage, “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar?” Well, this year, I have learned, “You reach more lives with grace than judgment.” In my former position with Child Protective Services, I held onto cases long term and worked with the families as long as the case was open, sometimes years at a time. My new position only allows me one interview with the parents and in that two hour period of time, I have to build enough of a rapport to find out what was going on in the home in order to figure out how to help them rebuild their family. Before, I found myself getting caught up in the anger and chaos of my cases, and to be honest, I’m not really sure how much good I did for some of the families I worked with. Since going through my own life altering experience, I have returned to work with a new perspective and a new belief that we ALL have the ability to change, sometimes we just need one person to look at us with fresh eyes, an open heart and a patience to introduce us to the things we may not have noticed or had any knowledge of before. The greatest blessing for me has been to watch the difference in how the parents respond to me and the process, but in the end, I am seeing my own life and the relationships in my personal life transform as I realize this is exactly how God views me and how He wants me to interact with others! Before, I would get caught up in the guilt of my mistakes and would feel hopeless, believing that change would never come. Now, I recognize that I WILL mess up, it’s just a matter of WHEN and HOW, but I serve a God who loves me unconditionally and desires to change me from the inside out…a God who when I ask for forgiveness is ready and willing to offer me a new perspective and a pair of fresh eyes, a clean slate. And it’s the same for those around me…we all have our shortcomings and we are all works in progress, but the greatest gift I can give to my neighbor, my family, my boss or the crazy driver on the freeway is the gift of forgiveness and grace, because without a doubt there will be a time or two when I exert my own selfish desires and will need to ask for that same courtesy back!  

4. There were several moments this past year, when I became so involved in the burdens and heartaches of others that I drove even myself crazy! In my desire to protect those closest to me from getting hurt or from making a mistake, I realized I was trying to control their lives. It wasn’t until my roommate, a truly wise and gracious woman, reminded me that I have to trust that she is listening to God too, and I have to let go of my protection over her (and others I love) that I started to snap out of it! I had to take a long hard look at my relationships, and I had to do some repair and ask forgiveness from those I had hurt. The bottom line of that lesson is that I wasn’t trusting God enough to do His job, and I thought I could do it better. But isn’t that always the way of it? Somehow, we doubt the God who single-handedly caused the entire earth to spin and float, the God who has ordained every breath that I take, and we believe we know how to do it better than Him? How painful and eye opening to see the audacity with which I approach a God who is responsible for my very existence! Thus, in 2011 and I’m sure again in 2012…and if I’m being honest, probably until my last breath, I will have to remind myself and learn it again and again that I am only in charge of me and my actions, and the rest I have to leave up to God! 

At the age of eighteen, on the eve of starting college, my parents made one thing very clear…”No tattoos or piercings or no tuition for school!” A decade and four years later, give or take a few days, I broke the rules. Yesterday, I broke all the rules and made a decision. The kind of decision that is a no turning back sort of decision. The kind of decision that could be a really good one or a really bad one. The kind of decision that I’ve been trying to make for a long time and finally made my choice. I chose, for better or for worse, to alter my body. I put a great deal of time and thought into it before I got it so that I would have no regrets.

For me, a year and a half out of cancer treatment, I am left with the daily physical reminders of the grueling Radiation I went through in order to beat the odds. Everyday, when my mouth becomes dry due to the lack of saliva, or I can’t find anything to eat that tastes halfway decent because of my altered taste buds or when I’m still consciously aware of every single swallow I take, praying it goes down the right way, I’m reminded of the journey behind me. Most days I think I do a pretty good job of realizing it’s just going to be part of who I am for the rest of my life, but other times, I’m overcome with frustration and sadness that this is my forever reality. That’s when I came up with the idea of combating the negative physical reminders with something that is a positive reminder of how far the Lord has brought me through my life and what a blessing He gave me by giving me another day, faulty taste buds and all. I began to draft a picture of what I would like to see everyday that will encourage me to keep going and continue a path of thanks to God for those blessings.

I’m learning that most are not aware of the fact that there is a different color ribbon for every type of cancer out there. While pink is the most well-known cancer ribbon as it symbolizes Breast Cancer, mine is red and white in honor of Oral Cancer, one of the fastest and most “up and coming” cancers around these days. So, I paid tribute to myself as a survivor, not because I personally did it, but because there is a God who gave me the strength to get through every moment of my fight. During my year battle, I quickly identified with the words, “Live, Laugh, Love” as my motto to live by. It is my sincere belief that without an abundance of laughter and love, one is not truly living or experiencing the meaning behind life. To laugh with abandon and to love without boundaries…that is a beautiful existence indeed. And finally, I chose purple tulips, inspired by a very special person in my life. My amazing friend, closer than a brother for sixteen years, Mark. While I was in the hospital during the time the doctor removed the tumor, I was sent to recover in TCU, an area the hospital would not allow flowers. Mark called my mom several times during my stay, hoping to have flowers sent to my room. They finally decided to wait until I arrived back home and the day I returned, there was a beautiful bouquet of purple tulips waiting for me. Mark has been a very special part of my life since high school and we have walked together during many difficult moments. We have forged a friendship that is rare these days and I am so thankful for the love and support he showed me during my sickness. In my tattoo, one of the tulips is blooming, which signifies the trials God has already brought me through to date…the ups and downs, the disappointments, the illnesses and heartbreaks, the joys and the accomplishments, the beautiful milestones of thirty-two years. The other tulip has yet to bloom and is an illustration of the life and path I have yet to live.

For me, I am able now to look down and see beauty and a constant reminder of a God who loves me in such a way that He made a choice, a no turning back choice, a til death do us part choice…He chose to forever alter his body by dying on the cross for me and for you in an attempt to illustrate His love for us all.

No more cringing when asked how old I am…no more wishing there was one less flame-adorned candle on the cake…no more thoughts of, “Is that a wrinkle? A grey hair?” Never again will I dread the ticking of the clock or the turning of the decade! I had a birthday! A BIRTHDAY!!! ONE MORE YEAR! (and boy it felt good!) Sometimes we forget how precious the next step of our life can be until we’re faced with the possibility that there will be no more celebrations, no more “days after” when you step on the scale and wish you’d said no to that last piece of birthday cake…no more family get togethers with you in it, no more moments when you’re sharing your deepest hopes and greatest fears with those closest to you…But yesterday, and for this moment, there is no sadness of such days! I had a birthday!

In the midst of all the happiness and fun, there was an underlying sense of straight up gratitude that I was even here to experience it all. Last year for my birthday, my brother took me to radiation and then we went back home where I slept and then quietly enjoyed the chaotic sounds of my nephews playing and laughing and fighting and whining and just being kids! I ate one last birthday meal and one last amazing birthday dessert (I can still smell and taste that fantastic blueberry pie my sister-in-law is so famous for!)

This year, there was no sadness of what could be, no thoughts of fear for the future…there was merely joy! I received the best card from my sister this year! “I don’t know what we’ll be like when we’re little old ladies…” That was enough for me…I lost it right then and there…and her message finished the job! “Love the thought of us being old together and looking back at our LONG lives!”

I don’t know what the future holds, I don’t know much about anything, but I do know, how sweet to hear that special little tune, “Happy Birthday To You!” And thank you to all who have wished and prayed and hoped for more years to come!

In social work, we have a saying, “Fake it til ya make it”…basically, if you’re not feeling it, just pretend until you do. If your client has got the best of you, don’t let them see it…if you have no idea where to go with this particular case, make up something clever until you figure it out…”Fake it til ya make it!” And I’m sure it’s the same for all of us. No matter what our field of expertise, there’s been at least one time in the history of our career that we’ve done it…we’ve slapped on a smile and made some weak effort at convincing the person on the other side of the conversation that we’ve got it all under control…just to buy some extra time until we can find out the answer.

The hard part is when it comes to trying to fake ourselves out…trying to convince ourselves that everything’s gonna be fine when deep down it feels just the opposite. I’ve been in this mode of self-assurance for the past couple of weeks now. I get myself out of bed, put on my “big girl” dress up clothes, smooth out the hair, add the perfect accessories and walk out the door for work…all the while, giving myself the pep talk. “You can do this, you’re fine, you have no reason to be feeling this way, everything is going to be okay.”

I’m not unhappy, in fact, I enjoy my life immensely. I have a peaceful house to come home to, a roommate who is zero drama, a job I actually really like and am passionate about, a group of friends and a family who love and support me and an outlook on the daily grind that allows me to appreciate the way the sun bursts through the clouds just so, or the way the air smells slightly of cut grass on a windy day…add all of that up and you’ve got yourself one lucky, okay, one abundantly blessed girl! But somewhere in the midst of all that blessing, deep down in the crevices of the contentment and gratitude, there lies a sense of fear…a sense of inexplicable dread…a sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Last Thursday I was talking with my supervisor about one of my cases when I rested my hand against my chin. My skin felt unusually warm for the cold temperatures inside the building, and as I ran my fingertips down my neck, along my scar, I could feel that it was extra swollen. Since surgery and the radiation, I have what’s called Lymphedema (basically, the fluid builds up in that area and it presents as swollen or puffy)…apparently it’s totally normal, so I don’t usually think anything of it, but that day, it felt different. I went to the bathroom and noticed that my skin was bright red where merely an hour before it was fine. So I pretty much panicked. I just knew it was really back this time, so within ten minutes I had an appointment scheduled with the doctor.

The thing I’m learning about life post-Cancer is that no matter what the ailment, the final recommendation from my primary doctor will go a little like this…”Got a bruised finger? If it doesn’t go away in a week, you should come back. It might be Cancer” or “Your back hurts? If the pain worsens, you should get a scan cause it could be Cancer” or Thursday it was, “Weird red skin infection I can’t identify or diagnose? Take this medication and if it’s not gone by Monday…call your Oncologist. It could be Cancer.” I’ve decided that this is not the most comforting comment to receive when already on edge about this particular issue. I’m genuinely thinking about writing a booklet entitled “What not to say to your patient when he or she is already freaked out about a Cancer reoccurrence.” I think it’s pretty catchy!

Needless to say, I booked an appointment for the next day with my Oncologist just to be sure. He looked at me a bit strange when I told him what my primary doctor said, but assured me that there is no Cancer that presents with a red infection on the outside of the body. He then told me in not so many words to “go a little easy on your primary doc. They don’t really have any idea about Cancer so they’re always going to want to rule out the most serious condition first.” In other words…if they scare you with Cancer when it’s really a hang nail, give them a break…afterall, they’re just “practicing medicine.” And of course I couldn’t just leave the office visit on an up note, so I asked him, “So doc, while I’m here…do you think my swallowing is going to get any better?” (I have been known to choke quite frequently on pea-sized foods as they attempt to go down the pipe, and naturally I was curious as to when I could expect some improvement on that issue.) In his typical, unemotional fashion, he looked at me and said, “Probably not.”

Cue the crashing thunder and the bolts of lightning! Definitely not my favorite answer, nor one that I wish to accept. I cannot imagine that this is it for me, that this is where the story ends. I cannot let myself believe that it will always be like this, and that no matter what I do, it will take me an hour to eat half of a sandwich or that I will always have to carefully visualize each little bite as it goes down the canal, cheering on its journey until it’s safely through the danger zone. I refuse to see this as a forever side effect, but the reality of it is that this is my reality…for today anyway. Yes it’s true, God can fix this, He is bigger than a tiny little Esophagus, but for right this minute, the possibility that this will never go away feels like the enormity of the Grand Canyon. And right this minute I don’t exactly feel like faking it…faking that I’m okay with this…faking that I wouldn’t give just about anything to taste, to chew and to swallow like any other person out there…faking that I don’t wish for my whole self back…faking, faking, faking.

But I know, even as I write this, that everything will look better in the morning, what feels overwhelming right now will be alright with a good night’s sleep and that I’ll get myself out of bed and do it all over again tomorrow. And one day, I’ll wake up and realize there wasn’t any need for faking…one day I’ll look back on all of this and realize I made it. Today is not that day. Tomorrow may not be it either. But until then…

It’s hard to believe that another anniversary date is upon me. At this exact time, one year ago, I was smack in the middle of an 8 hour surgery to remove the tumor. Once I was in recovery and transferred to my bed in TCU, my sister took a picture of the finished product. She didn’t show it to me for months afterwards and to be honest, it took a bit for the shock to wear off once I saw myself and how I looked. I remember feeling tore up, but to see a visualization of that fact is a different piece of information altogether. It’s difficult to post even now…I jokingly termed myself a hot mess out of the latest science fiction flick, but more than being turned off by the sight of myself post-surgery, the picture brings back the many memories…most not so amazing.

I vividly recall my 6 day stay…the feeding tube in my nose that made me feel like I was drowning every time they gave me sustenance…the 12-inch tubes inserted near my neck with small plastic balloon-shaped bags attached to catch the liquid that drained from the area where they took out my lymph nodes…my tongue secured to the floor of my mouth so I wouldn’t move and mess up the reconstruction…the not so compassionate night nurses…not being able to talk…the fear…oh the fear.

Some might ask why I would post this picture now and bring everything back up again. For me, it’s important to be able to look back on what God has done in my life and how far He has brought me. And so, just to spite my old self and to say, “God, there are no words for how incredibly blessed I feel…”…I took a picture today.

One Year Later

One person…two very different images. One filled with the fear and anxiety of the future, one filled with the hope of tomorrow. One, weak and helpless, the other strong but dependent on the God who has promised never to leave or forsake me! One, not always so thankful for the daily grind of life; the other, grateful for every moment given!

To all who have walked this journey with me, I thank you! You were there, loaded with encouragement when it felt impossible, and you are here as I continue in my new life. May we always remember how far we have come and may we always be in awe of the one who brought us there!

The past couple of days I’ve been exhausted…sleeping for hours on end, even napping throughout the day, void of energy to get up and accomplish anything…something I haven’t had to face in a while. I couldn’t figure out why I was struggling so much when just last week I was motivated and ready to take on the world. The body has an interesting way of letting us know when we’re in need of a timeout, even when we haven’t quite caught up to that hidden message buried deep within our subconscious. It lets us know that there’s a day creeping up on the calendar that holds a special significance to our lives, and it reminds us that we may just need to take a little extra care of ourselves for the time being. For me, that date is today, February 2nd.

It’s been one year. 12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days. 8,766 hours. 525,600 minutes. 31,536,000 seconds. One year since I answered the phone and heard the doctor mutter those heart-wrenching words. One year since I contacted my family and broke the news. One year since the world around me came to a screeching halt.

One year ago, I was sharing a less-than-appealing plate of chinese food with my sister as we discussed the shocking turn of events. The day we wandered around the mall in Orange making horrible jokes about what I would sound like with part of my tongue missing, when I told one punchline too many and decided that I’d had enough. The day when time stood still, and the things that seemed so important became quite minor when compared to fighting for my life.

Today marks the most significant anniversary of my life, to date. And in the next several months, I will welcome, grieve and celebrate many more very specific dates. March 3, 2010…the day I survived an 8 hour surgery to remove the tumor. April 12, 2010…the day I met “Joey”, my infamous life support, my feeding tube. April 13, 2010…the day I received my first “Zap”. May 25, 2010…the day I knew I had survived 30 Radiation Treatments. And finally, December 21, 2010…the day my feeding tube was no longer needed.

While there are a myriad of emotions running through me, and there is a great sense of sadness that threatens to overtake me, there is an even stronger presence of hope and gratitude. I am so very thankful that despite how tough it can be to look back on these dates and to remember the battles fought, the bottom line is I’M STILL HERE…in order TO look back! And Lord willing, I’ll be here many years from now to wish myself yet another Happy Anniversary!

It took a couple of hours to load up and a whopping 90 minutes to unload the moving truck, get my bedroom set-up and all the boxes upstairs for me to unload at my convenience. Let’s face it…no one likes to move, no one likes to help someone else move! Packing can be a cathartic experience, but the moment of truth presents itself all too quickly when it’s time to find room for all that stuff! Thank God for friends, family and a church community who is willing to be there…even when you’re moving!

My parents and I drove down to Southern California last Wednesday afternoon. In tow was my 3-yr-old nephew, Cyrus who thought it would be entertaining to grab my hand, twist my fingers in all different directions and laugh hysterically when I said, “Ouch! You’re hurting me!” In need of a break, I would remove my hand from his intense grip, only to be met with the most adorable, pouty face as he exclaimed, “No Aunt Kewie, I want to play wif you!” Who can say no to that? So after a grueling 30 minutes passed and there was no life left in my digits, I succumbed to bribing him with part of an apple fritter (so what if that tastes really good to me right now? A girl deserves a donut after having some taste bud trouble, right?) Afterall, isn’t that the role of an aunt…to persuade through the use of inanimate objects in order to receive the desired behavior? Anywho…I digress.

We spent the first night at my sister’s and then the next with my brother and his family. Even though we’d all been together for Christmas, it felt like the time went by much too quickly and when Friday morning arrived, we headed for Anaheim to collect my belongings.

The moving van was an adventure in itself. The manager at Budget, although sitting directly at the counter in the full line of sight of all customers just couldn’t be bothered to look away from her romance novel long enough to offer her assistance, so the task was left up to the mediocre clerk who acted as if answering questions would be the end of his existence. A quick walk around the truck presented with a lovely spray of gang tagging on the side. My father drove the truck to our first location and it took all of two seconds when I walked up to the door to smell that the cabin was wreaking of leftover cigarette toxins from the previous renter…despite the very clearly labeled sign in the office that promised a $250 fine for smoking in one of the Budget fleet. Not the best combination for a girl recovering from cancer and her father who suffers from severe asthma. Calls to both the manager and then customer service did nothing to alleviate my concerns and both representatives assured me that they didn’t really care about my discomfort nor the fact that there was graffiti sprawled across their company logo. They agreed that the fine for smoking only applied to their cars and not their trucks. They also admitted that there was nowhere in the reservation process that this was explained. I was directed to take it up with the manager when I returned my truck in Sacramento on Saturday. The return manager was incredible, although ironically he would have charged me $250 for the smell of smoke in the cabin had I not explained ahead of time the issue. He firmly follows the fine for smoking and disagreed with the other manager but said he couldn’t do anything about it on his end…that the compensation had to come from the original manager. Hello rabbit trail…may I chase you? Needless to say, after one final conversation to customer service, they credited my account $60 for my trouble. Not the world’s greatest accomplishment, but a small victory for truck renters everywhere!

Monday and Tuesday I spent clearing a few boxes, here and there, but it became obvious rather quickly that the number of things I still had left to find a home for just wasn’t realistic to the amount of space that remained. So that’s when it happened…Wednesday…”D-Day!” DE-CLUTTER DAY! I began ripping open boxes…and I sorted. I made a throw away pile, a give away pile and a no, I cannot get rid of that pile! I took a trip down memory lane as I came across mementos from my childhood…clippings of the articles I wrote for my high school paper, spirit buttons from Friday night football, a gavel I received for being Senior Class President…I collected 5 boxes worth of clothes and other items and donated them to my nearest thrift store.

While I still have a few boxes left to sort, last night I felt this overwhelming sense of calm, a sense of direction, a sense of clean…not physically because there was less junk in the house, but emotionally clean. This feeling that in the past 12 months, I have truly come full circle. Not only have I experienced the de-clutter of things in my life, but I’ve worked really hard at getting rid of the mental and emotional clutter that I had allowed myself to be paralyzed by…the things that kept me up worrying at night…the past choices that continued to haunt me…the regrets of pain I caused others…the wounds never quite healed. I am learning to forgive others and in the process I am learning how to forgive myself.

That’s when it struck me. D-Day. Deliverance Day.

“Moving on, is a simple thing, what it leaves behind is hard.” Although not my usual source for finding uplifting quotes, Dave Mustaine, the founder and lead vocalist for the band, Megadeath (and the creator of this statement) may have just gotten it right. I’ve moved a total of 20 times in my life…19 of those since leaving my parent’s home for college at the ripe old age of eighteen. I’ve lived with a total of 23 roommates (college was a blur of constant adjustment), resided in 5 cities, 2 states and 2 countries, and each time, I may have just left a little part of me behind.

Up until my mid-20′s, I had this overwhelming urge to be anywhere but where I was at any given time. I loved the excitement of a new location, starting fresh with a new attitude and clean slate…the smell of new paint and professionally cleaned carpets…exploring an unknown neighborhood and making it my own…until the next time the bug hit me, and I felt the familiar ants-in-my-pants sensation strike yet again! By the time I was 27, I was over it and ready to call one place home. Life had other plans; however, and I moved a few more times after that. This last big move, though, did a number on me!

An unfortunate victim of the rapidly declining economy, I was laid off at my job in Sacramento in November last year and found employment in Southern California. Not 2 1/2 months later I left all my worldly possessions and traveled back to Northern California to move in with my parents in order to tackle treatment for the cancer. In September, after completing treatment, I moved out of my parent’s home and in with a good friend from church. My current living situation is more than I could’ve hoped for! We get along great…our schedules are just opposite enough to give us some independence but provide us with time to catch up on the events of the day. We’re both laid back enough to not care about the little things, but we have a solid communication that eases us through the bigger issues. She was there for me when I was at my worst and provided me with a change of scenery when I needed a break from my reality. We laugh a lot (mostly at ourselves), we cry together (at silly girl movies) and we are learning from each other’s areas of expertise (Danielle played professional basketball and now trains others and I, well I’ve introduced her to a culture mixed with sappy wedding shows and psychotic thrillers). The best part, though is our mutual love for God and the relationship of accountability we have established.

Last week I was offered a job at my old agency back in Southern California. As of New Years day I received my final payment from disability insurance and the offer of employment couldn’t have come at a better time. All except for the fact that I was oddly devastated at the idea of relocating again. I’m the type that pulls myself up by my boot straps when needed so this overwhelming sense of sadness was quite unsettling. After seeking the counsel of several close friends and family, all whom provided me with different opinions and left me more confused than before, I decided to contact the social worker from my Oncology office in hopes she could shed a little light on the situation.

Apparently I’m still recovering. Apparently there is quite a huge bereavement road I’ve yet to walk. Apparently I took a proverbial nap for the past 11 months and am just now starting to wake up to a whole new reality, a new body…a new me. Apparently I’m not dealing with that as well as I would like to think I am. Apparently while I no longer look sick, my body still needs to do some healing. Apparently if I leave my support system and treatment team and start a new job that has a high level of stress, I may run the risk of putting that necessary healing on hold. Apparently the Oncology Social Worker is a lot smarter than I am! I took her professional advice, opted against financial security and chose to take care of me. Apparently I need to do more of that.

With each past move, I left a little piece of me behind…memories, good and bad; a piece of my heart with every goodbye and a little dash of hope that this would be the final destination. With each move; however, I also took a little something with me…lessons learned; lifelong friendships and a peace that God was with me every undefined step of the way! This weekend I will travel to Southern California to pack up my belongings, clean out my storage and make the long journey back home. And maybe, just maybe, Sacramento will hold onto me for good.

My roomie and me

“This is gonna be your year, I can feel it!” During the past month, I’ve heard this well known phrase on several occasions. Honestly, I’ve heard it many times over the years and probably even offered this guarantee myself…as if speaking it aloud would bring it into existence. As I truly contemplated the statement for the very first time, I wondered why we promise this to others? Perhaps as the New Year approaches, the pressure to provide a gift-wrapped basket of positive reinforcement to our friends and family members becomes greater than throughout the rest of the year, because if we can convince them, then quite possibly we can convince ourselves that we’re headed towards “the year.”

I started thinking about what elements need to be present in order to make this my year. Is it meeting “the one”…finding the perfect job, buying a home, filling my closet with designer clothes…or is it having a year without sorrow, without trials, without dealing every day with Cancer?

On Christmas Eve, as I was driving to church for service, I was listening to one of my favorite artists, India Arie and her song, “I Choose.” Although I’ve heard this song several dozen times in the past, part of the lyrics (posted below) touched my heart in a way they never have before.

*Because you never know where life is gonna take you
and you can’t change where you’ve been.
But today, I have the opportunity to choose.

And I choose to be the best that I can be.
I choose to be authentic in everything I do.
My past don’t dictate who I am. I choose.

I done been through some painful things I thought that I would never make it through.
Filled up with shame from the top of my head to the soles of my shoes.
I put myself in so many chaotic circumstances, but by the grace of God I’ve been given so many second chances.
But today I decided to let it all go. I’m dropping these bags, I’m making room for my joy.

Because you never know where life is gonna take you and you can’t change where you’ve been.
But today, I have the opportunity to choose.
I used to have guilt about why things happen they way they did cuz life is gone do what it do.
And everyday, I have the opportunity to choose.

And I choose to be the best that I can be.
I choose to be courageous in everything I do.
My past don’t dictate who I am. I choose.

And I choose to be the best that I can be.
I choose to be authentic in everything I do.
My past don’t dictate who I am. I choose.

During the 15 minute drive to my parent’s church, I re-played the song several times, singing at the top of my lungs, “I choose!” Memories of the past twelve months flooded my heart, and it dawned on me that 2010 WAS “my year”…It was the year I fought for my life, the year I realized my life was actually worth fighting for…the year I chose to see myself as worth more than what I was settling for…the year I received an overwhelming support of family and friends…the year I said goodbye to some relationships and had the opportunity to create some new friendships…the year I found peace within myself…The year I learned about “Dolce Far Niente” (the sweetness of doing nothing). The year I truly found the peace of the God that dwells within me and desires to bring blessing through the greatest of tragedies…The year I faced my greatest fears and came out on the other side stronger than before…and the year that I learned I CHOOSE!

I may not be able to predict or control what happens to me in the future…I continue to face the chronic side effects of the Cancer, but I get to choose how I handle that on a daily basis. I may not be able to stop how someone else’s actions will change my life, but I can choose how I respond to the situation. I GET to choose EVERYDAY my attitude…for better or worse. And I get to choose that every year is “My Year!”

Picture from my "I'm Alive and I Survived Cancer" photo shoot

Dear Joey,

I can’t believe we’ve been together for 8 1/2 months. At first, I must admit that I found you to be quite the pain! You were aggressive and overly invasive on most occasions. You brought me nothing but discomfort, and it was extremely awkward every time we went out in public. You had me feeling so insecure that I always changed my clothes several times before leaving the house! Within a couple of weeks; however, you stole my heart, as you sought to meet my needs at the most basic of levels! Afterall, isn’t there some silly saying out there that the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach? Well, Joey…I must say that you captured all that and more! From the moment I came to understand that you were truly there for me, it changed my whole outlook on your presence in my life.

But Joey…dear Joey, as much as you have meant to me and as selfless as you have been, there comes a time in any partnership where you have to evaluate how things are going and make decisions about the future. As difficult as this is for me to express, sometimes it’s important to end on a high note, maintain the positive memories you have and realize that sometimes relationships are only meant to be for a season.

I should have waited to do this until after Christmas to lessen the blow, but 21 days have passed since I’ve been contemplating a separation, and I couldn’t drag it out any longer. To be quite honest, I would have ended things sooner, but I needed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I could survive without you. I have great confidence that you will find someone else to serve, as that seems to be what you do best, but I know now that I am strong enough to do this on my own. I thank you for the times you were there for me…in the middle of the night…outings to the movies, family gatherings…you were always the life of the party and a great conversation piece! And one more thing, Joey, I ask that you honor my wishes and never contact me again. Harsh, I know…but necessary…so that we both can move on to the next stage of our lives.

Best Regards,
Me

*My feeding tube was placed on April 10, 2010. Today, I had it removed…finally! During his first visit since having my tube placed, my 7-year-old nephew, Moses, was extremely eager to learn about the strange apparatus that fed liquids to his Aunt Kelli. He asked what kinds of items could go into my tube and wanted to know if I could put Sprite and popcorn down there. After his curiosity was fulfilled, he looked at the print on the equipment and read, “Kangaroo Joey.” A day or two later, not watching where he was going, Moses ran into the legs of the IV pole and let out a big exclamation of “Jo-eeee.” Since that day, my family and I adopted the nickname and jokingly referred to my tube as “Joey”.

My parents accompanied me to the tube removal this morning and my mom came into the doctor’s office with me to take pictures. The doctor told me to take two deep breaths and pulled. Out popped this tube with a round bumper on the end. While there was brief pain, the excitement over what had just occurred seemed to wipe it all away. Driving home, we couldn’t help but feel the immense significance of the moment as we realized I have come full circle on this long journey. It was such a blessing to have them there as they have been there for me every step of the way! Below are some pictures of “Joey”.

Mom and me

Me and my Pops!

Feeding tube on the outside!

Saying Goodbye to "Joey"