God is Calling

What can I say, Lord? I am still breathless after a powerful encounter filled four days at the Voice of the Apostles Conference I went to in Pennsylvania. My favorite inspirational person Heidi Baker spoke twice. She has a huge ministry to orphans in Mozambique and in the 20+ years she has been there, over 10,000 churches have been planted. She has rescued thousands from living in the dumps and on the streets. She has been shot, she has contracted terrible diseases and so has her family. She has had many death threats and attempts on her life, and she radiates the love of Jesus more than anyone I have ever met.She continually sees You provide in miraculous ways and trusts You for everything. She always reminds us to see the one. Thank You Father for bringing her to America again.

 My sister Jo and I were so blessed to have been able to go there and soak in Your Presence. She came home refreshed and rested, just exactly what she needed. I came home blown away by things You are calling me to do. I can't even imagine where to start. Exactly what I needed.

I have been feeling a call from the Lord for the lost.God has given me His heart for a very specific group of people. He has been breaking my heart for these who don't know Him and this weekend was no vacation from that. In fact, it became clearer and yet I became more sure than before that I cannot do the very thing He wants me to do. Does that make sense? The thing is, I know I have nothing within me to accomplish what He asks. But I have desire for it. I can feel it and see it and almost touch it, but I have no idea how to begin. In the meantime, I will pray. I'm asking  for the plans and the wisdom. I'll ask for everything I need and I know He will provide. I'll keep you posted as I get answers and specifics. I will invite you into this as far as you want to come. It's gonna be a Great Adventure. Thanks for reading. Please say a prayer for me as you click off the page. I sure appreciate it. xoxo
P.S. I have stories to tell from this conference, but just can't get it together right now. I'll be back.

Black and White: Of Cats and God

There seem to be lots of black and white cats in my life. I think there is a pattern developing. I have two of them living with me. They are the variety known as Tuxedo cats because their markings look like someone wearing a tuxedo. They are really beautiful too. I adopted one from the pound. The other one came from the woods out back. Someone dumped her or lost her when she was very little. It is a long story on this one, but I will sum it up by saying that although we tried to adopt her OUT she is still here. There is a stray of the same variety that visits the yard occasionally. I think he belongs to one of the neighbors who lives up the block, but I am not sure. My cats are not happy when he comes around.
A few weeks ago, there was a little black cat running around the yard. She would zip through like greased lightning and hide under one of the sheds. I thought her left front leg was badly broken as it would flop up and down when she ran. I started feeding her and after the second day, she let me near her when I brought out her food in the early evening. Afterwards she came out of hiding and was a ball of love and purrs. She had a spot of white on her chest. Her leg wasn't broken, much to my relief, but she had been born with a deformity. Although she couldn't walk or run on it because it was shorter than the other one and had no elbow joint, she did use it for balance and the paw worked fine. I really wanted to keep her, but my husband would not hear of it. Since you don't break up a 41 year marriage for even the most affectionate and adorable cat, I let go. I have promised Paul that we would not have 3 cats at one time again, and he held me to my word. I also had heard from the Lord regarding this; in a post from a ministry I follow, there was encouragement to let go of things that seem important to you because God has something better.  I was really sad about it, but I found a rescue who provided vet care and she is now in a cage-free shelter awaiting adoption. I have no doubt that she will not be there for long. Everyone who meets her loves her.
The following week there was a demonstration in front of the U.N., supporting Israel and against a Palestinian state being allowed to form without conforming to the U.N. requirements. You probably never heard anything about it as the media does not cover such things, but it was estimated that there were more than 3,000 Christian, Jews, Muslims and Hindus in attendance. I know because I was there. It was important to me, and more important than the cat. My husband was happy to let me go, by myself, on trains and subways into Manhattan. That was the hand of God, I can tell you for sure. It was one of those times when you know for sure that you are in the right place, in God's timing, and something changes in you; you feel a shift has happened.
Tonight there was another black and white cat. This was a tiny kitten on the side of the Sunrise Highway service road; a very dangerous and busy stretch of roadway. In spite of the traffic coming up to the light, I stopped my car and put my hazard lights on. I got out hoping to pick it up and take it home. I tried to catch the poor thing, but it would not come near me.  Cars began to swerve around me to get to the intersection. I kept calling to the kitten and trying to catch it, waiting for the horns to start blaring, but it would not come. It finally squeezed back through the cyclone fence, and was safe for the time being. I collected the food dishes that someone had left for it and put them on the inside of the fence where it would be safer. I hoped whoever had been feeding it would do the same. I felt terrible. As I turned around, expecting to see angry faces, the woman in the car that was now at an angle in front of me asked "Did you catch it?" I replied "No, it wouldn't come to me." She asked if it had gone through the fence, and I replied that it had. She waved. I turned again to get into my car and there was a man in a big SUV. I again expected frowns and grumbles, but he also asked if I was able to catch it. I replied again that I hadn't and he just said "Oh, too bad." I got back in my car and I have to admit I was really surprised. It was rush hour traffic and the light we were at takes forever to get past. People are always in such a hurry and impatient as they just want to get home. I turned at the corner to continue on my way to my destination and I got more and more upset. By the time I got to the next traffic light, tears were forming...and I was fighting to control them.
You can't blame everything on menopause, and I was asking the Lord what was going on. I heard Him ask me, very clearly, "Do you do well to be sad about the kitten?" And I said, "Yes Lord, I think I do. But I don't know why, except that I am afraid it will get hit by a car and killed." Silence. Now I was crying and feeling awful. The poor little thing. Who would just dump a baby like that? Or was it born wild and the mother was dead? What ever the truth is, I will never know. I was waiting on the Lord to speak as I continued driving. I was listening to some really great worship music and trying to get my head together as I was going to an outreach at a local cafe. I wouldn't be much good if I was still upset when I got there.
It was about 15 minutes before I heard from Him again. It went something like this. I can't quote because it was more of a knowing deep inside than spoken words.
The way that I was feeling about the kitten is the way that the Lord feels about those who are lost. There are those that He calls to, but they just will not come. They are too afraid. He tries and tries to catch them with His love, but they will not come. He still loves them; His heart is broken over them. They choose what seems like freedom instead of the Savior. Just as I couldn't save the kitten, no matter how hard I tried, He can't save the ones who run from Him. But still He tries. And loves.
I spoke with a friend about it, and my feeling of frustration...what do I do with all this? He simply asked what I thought...and I said "Pray." He reminded me of a prophetic word I received a few years ago and had shared with him. "You will accomplish more by your prayers than by your involvement.." True. Sigh. So hard for me as I am so much more of a Martha (worker) than a Mary (one who sits at the feet of Jesus).
As I have been writing this, the thing that ties it all together are the cats and the Lord. There are 5 cats. Five is the number of grace. Although the cats are all black and white, things with God are not always so. There are absolute truths to who He is and the most important one is that God is Love. He loves me and He gives me grace to pray when it isn't easy, if I will listen to His call. The grace is there, but I need to respond to it. The love is there, but I need to respond to it. God stopped by in my car this evening, and taught me more about His love than I have learned in a long time. Head knowledge became heart knowledge. Knowing He loves the lost and feeling His love for the lost are quite different from each other. I'm glad I asked.

POST SCRIPT

My family thinks the last post was too short, and reminded me that I left out a lot of details. The truth is, I left out many details on purpose. I wanted to share my story as a chance to celebrate the victory in my life and not to elicite any sympathy for the journey.  I also wanted to tell my story to remind people that early detection is vital to saving your life. Breast cancer is only one of the screenings that we need to get. Some of the others are very unpleasant, like colonoscopy for the detection of cancer of the colon; but they are so important.

One more thing that I think is so important is this..don't call it "my cancer" should you ever find yourself in the battle. It is not yours. It is an attack against your body and you should not claim it as a part of you.. Many doctors will describe it that way, as being "your cancer". Please tell them it isn't yours and to refer to it as "the cancer". That will go a long way to getting your thinking right as you get ready to fight.
Thank you for reading my story.
It's October. Breast Cancer Awareness month. Take care of yourself. And remember that men can get breast cancer too.
I hope you enjoy the video...it is my favorite of the Pink Glove Dances. Don't miss the dancing custodian spotlight....he is the best!

A Journey Through Cancer and Back: Part Three

Well here we are at part three and the last of my story, I hope. I don't want to drag it on for too many days...

My surgery was scheduled for early September. I was looking forward to getting it over with and a bit scared at the same time. In the back of my mind I wondered what would happen if I woke up halfway through the procedure and felt everything they were doing but was paralyzed and couldn't tell them! I spoke with the anesthesiologist about all that, and she assured me that your body wakes before your brain and there are definite signs that you are beginning to wake up. Your extremities start moving around and then they give you more drugs. I felt better after that talk. I have had surgery before, but never such a long one.
Paul was worried and wonderful at the same time. He couldn't do enough for me, but was also making sure I would go through with it. I had some ups and downs and ins and outs as I contemplated losing a breast; was I going too extreme, should I just wait until they decide in a few years that you don't need to have a mastectomy for dcis because it rarely leaves the breast; so many thoughts and a husband determined to keep me on track. He was scared to death of losing me. I was irritated at having to go through all of it. My daughters were wonderful and encouraging and full of questions but also considerate of whether or not I felt like talking; I almost always feel like talking.
So much needed to be arranged; who would take care of Adam, who would watch Gavin as I went through months of recovery and not being allowed to lift anything. Gavin is one of my grandchildren; I have been blessed to care for all of the grandkids while their moms work. I didn't need to worry; Jodi took family medical leave and Paul arranged to use vacation time and sick time for two months until I could get back to normal living.
My surgery day came and everything went pretty much as I had been told. I went to sleep and woke up as if it had only been a few minutes, but it had been eleven and a half hours. Paul was right there as I woke in a swirling mass of pain. He called the nurse over and she asked me a few questions and then gave me more morphine. I went to sleep. I barely remember being transported to my room or anything really for the next 24 hours. I do remember Paul wanting me to eat and drink..he was so sure I needed food. Dr.Palmeijer came in and assured me that my appetite would return as my body shook off the effects of so much anesthesia. "Don't worry about eating, you will when you can digest it." Paul stopped worrying, and I began to realize why Adam will never eat after he has surgery. His body takes much longer than mine did to recover.Also, I could hardly believe what I  looked like! I was swollen beyond belief. I looked like I had been stung by a thousand bees. My hands could hardly bend to grasp anything. YUUUCCCHH!! Ug--ly!
The following day I was allowed to leave ICU and go to the regular floor. I had been able to get out of bed and I had been walking well around the unit. After we settled in, Paul washed my hair for me and helped me sponge bathe...I told you before that he is the best nurse ever. My sisters came to visit, friends dropped by, my pastor came in, and I couldn't wait to get out of there. I stayed for five days. I forgot to mention that my plastic surgeon is a young man and very good looking. It is strange when you get to the place where your doctors are so much younger than you. He is married, but that doesn't stop the young women from drooling over him. My sisters were about as shocked as I was over his age.(considering that plastic surgery is a specialty and adds a few more years onto medical school. and that he is an assistant professor at the university) But all the nurses told us what a genius he is, and they are right; my breast is rather beautiful, even if I do say so myself. But you'll have to take my word for it.:0}
I went home and had a visiting nurse for a few days. I had four drains hanging out of my body. This presented a problem going home, as I knew that Adam would be very upset at seeing them...he understands operations all too well. I designed a small apron to hold them and my sister made it for me. What a blessing! It supported them and kept Adam and everyone else from seeing them and what was inside them. It was 2 weeks before the last one was out. Paul did my dressing changes and helped me in and out of the shower;  he scrubbed my back and washed my feet. Then helped me dress. He cooked and cleaned and bathed Adam and got him off to school every morning and off the bus every afternoon. What a culture shock for him! He is the chief custodian of our high school, and in charge of a 500,000 square foot building full of 200 teachers and 3,000 students.  He runs a crew of 20 over three shifts. He thinks his job is easier than mine :0}
My church friends came and visited and brought us meals and desserts. I appreciated the company more than anything else.
I went to see Dr. Palmeijer after a week. The results were in from the breast biopsies. There was another area of cancer  that did not show up on the mammogram.  I was glad I had the mastectomy and knew I had made the right decision. I would have been back in the O.R. in another year or two.
I have had more surgery since then to repair my abdomen. The muscle seperated and I now have mesh in there. I would not recommend the TRAM flap surgery that I had; it messes with your core and if your muscles do not hold up you end up with mesh to hold your guts in place. I did not think that through, but I will say that in over 1,000 patients with this plastic surgeon, there are only two of us that have had this problem. There is another procedure called the DIEP flap, and that uses skin and fat only. I have a cousin by marriage who has had that done, and 5 years later she is very happy with her results.
The end of the story is that I am cancer free. I am healthy and happy. I would not want to go through this again, but if that day comes I will. Through it all, Jesus has been my strength and the One Who loves me best. Paul loves me best too. I have learned that I can survive anything, that I have stories worth telling, that no matter how dark it gets it will get brighter again, and that I am loved.
When I thought about cancer in the beginning, I thought of it as the great divider. Most people can't relate to you when you have cancer; it makes things awkward and they don't know what to say. So they avoid you.
I learned that cancer is also the great joiner. It joins your family closer together, it causes you to look at your life and what is important, it helps you begin to say "I love you" more than ever because you realize you might not be there one day to say it. Cancer comes to destroy, but it actually builds. HA! I LOVE THAT! Cancer accomplishes the exact opposite of what it was sent for. I have a freedom now that I never had before. Life is too precious to let anything destroy what you are trying to build. I am trying new things and taking risks I never took before. I am not worried about being perfect..I can make mistakes as I learn and it is not a tragedy. I can value my past even as I learn to not live in it or by it. Life is good and I intend to enjoy the rest of mine. By the way, I plan to live to be at least 100, so if you are following  my blog you may be following  it for a very long time. In case you didn't realize, blogging is one of my new things.
So God stopped by in this journey. Actually, He never left. I hope you will stop by often. I like sharing my life with you. The kettle is on for tea anytime, and if you happen to like coffee, I will be happy to brew some up for you. If you are really lucky, it may be on a baking day.

A Journey Through Cancer and Back:Part Two

Part two....seems like so many more parts, but here goes.
I was very faithful about getting my mammos every six months for the first two years, and then because there was nothing new or exciting, I was able to have one a year after that. I was good about it, but after some very difficult times in 2004, I let things slip. I had a mammo that year before everything in our lives slid into the Year From Hell. My mother died from emphysema in March. My grandson had six surgeries in five weeks in the summer, between June and July. He is shunted for hydrocephalus and it failed. Repeatedly. His story is for another day; maybe a book. He went from walking independantly to using a wheelchair. We nearly lost him during this time. He was at home using a hospital bed for months. We rearranged our family room to fit it in. He was so sick. And in so much pain. We spent many nights watching "Fly Away Home", a movie about a girl who rescues Canadian geese eggs, raises the hatchlings and releases them back into the wild. The music is very beautiful and peaceful and  Adam would just watch and listen and sometimes miraculously drift off to sleep for a time. Physical therapists told us he would never walk again. (They were wrong!)  But God was there through all of it. He never leaves us or forsakes us. He is the comforter and the lifter of my head. There is more, much more, but these are the highlights. I had no time for the next year to do much of anything but take care of Adam.  He got better over time, but in 2006 he had more shunt problems and three more surgeries and we nearly lost him again. I justified putting  my own health  needs on the back burner. Never do this.
In 2008, in the spring, I finally went for a mammo. It had been 2 1/2 years since my last one. I was lectured  and reprimanded by my gynecologist, and by the girls in Good Samaritan Hospital Breast Care Suite. But as usual, they took excellent care of me. I had my mammo and went back out to the waiting area until my results came back.  Then: they needed more films. They also wanted to do a fine needle biopsy on one of the cysts in my left breast as it did not look good. So sure, fine, go ahead.
The results of the needle biopsy were fine. The repeat mammos were not. I had more micro-calcs, and they were very concentrated in one area. Not a good sign. I needed to come back for another stereotactic biopsy. (sigh) o.k.
A few days later I was back at the hospital for the test. They took TWENTY tissue samples. The radiologist does this test and she looks at it right away. She sat and talked with me for a while, and the lovely nurses did too. I can't say enough good things about the people who work there; they are kind, compassionate and sympathetic. They hold your hand and rub your back and talk to you while you go through your stereo procedure. They are hand-picked for their jobs and I think by the Lord. Theirs is a gift of empathy that I have rarely seen anywhere else. Thank God for them and the difference they make in the world. The radiologist told me I needed a surgeon once again, and it didn't look good. She really didn't want to say more.
I wanted a new surgeon after the last time, and they gave me a few names. I decided to go to the Carol Baldwin Center instead. There I would find every specialist I needed under one roof.
Gosh, I feel like this story could go on forever. I will be brief.
I found a wonderful breast surgeon who directed me to an oncologist. They both took very detailed histories and asked many questions. I discussed my bleeding problem the last time, told them that one of my daughters has Von Willebrands factor, and asked for help. I got it. Both doctors were amazed that no one had ever paid attention to my history and checked into the problem any further. There was a definite trail that was easy to follow if a person took the time to really listen. I now take a medication called DDAVP before I have any surgery and I don't have any problems. So simple. So important.
Dr. Palmeijer (pronounced palm-air)  did my breast biopsy. She was kind and very thorough. I made an appointment to get the results on my birthday. I was fifty-six years old. I had cancer. Life changed in an instant.
The good news is that the type of cancer I had would rarely mestasticize, and I was at stage zero. I had DCIS----Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. Big words that mean I had cancer in a milk duct and it hadn't spread out of the duct to any other area of my breast. I had two choices; have a partial mastectomy and five weeks of radiation, or have a total mastectomy and no radiation. The main concern was for speedy surgery as the lesion was very near to my chest wall, and waiting would give it the chance to spread elsewhere. Dr. Palmeijer also suggested I have a radioactive dye test for my lymph nodes before the mastectomy (if I chose that option) to see if there was any chance that the nodes had been affected. This test can't be done after a mastectomy as the dye has to be injected into your breast in order to travel into the lymphatic system. So of course I agreed to have it done. And I decided to have a mastectomy; I did not want to have radiation. It seemed like a bad choice to me,considering I had already had a partial mastectomy, and the radiation can have adverse effects on your heart and anything else in the surrounding areas.It can also be very debilitating and have lasting effects on your energy and health. You can have reconstruction for a partial mastectomy, but I figured since I already had atypia and now dcis, the chances of getting cancer in that breast again were pretty good.
I also had a consult with the plastic surgeon. He told me about the different types of reconstuction that were available. I won't go into much detail, but I opted for reconstruction from my own body; no implant. Skin, muscle and fat from my abdomen would be used to make me a new breast. As it would be from my own body there was no chance of rejection. I could have the work done immediately after the breast surgeon finished my mastectomy. I  would wake up with a breast instead of without one. I liked that idea.  I thought I would be forever done with surgery in one hospital stay.
I didn't like the eleven hours it would take for everything to be accomplished. I wouldn't be aware of that anyway. But Paul would. He didn't care. He wanted me to have a mastectomy and be safe, and didn't care what kind of reconstruction I had, or if I didn't have any at all.  I joked about maybe just putting a sock in my bra like my mother did. She had a mastectomy when she was seventy-five and couldn't be bothered with an implant and didn't like any of the mastectomy products. She just put one of her favorite white fuzzy socks in her bra and said,  "The hell with it!This is more comfortable." I think she was right. But we made plans for the whole process and jumped on in.

A Journey Through Cancer and Back

I haven't done a post yet about cancer, and since October is breast cancer awareness month, I think it's a good time to write one. My fight began in 2001, when I had a suspicious mammogram finding of microcalcifications. These are often present when there is cancer in the breast. They are not the same thing as calcium deposits, which are just that; lumps of calcium in the tissue. I needed to have a sterotactic biopsy done. In case you don't know, a stereotactic biopsy is step two for determining the presence of cancer in the breast. I started to describe this procedure for you, but decided it is probably better to spare you the gory details. The radiologist takes several tissue samples from the area where cancer is suspected and examines them under a microscope. She also implants a small clip so that when you have another mammo done, the area is immediatly noticed and easy to locate. This shows up on x-ray also, and makes it the most definite way to excise the right area if you need further biopsies. Depending on what they find, the next step is a surgical biopsy. I needed the next step. They suspected ADH----Atypical Ductal Hyperplasia, a pre-cancerous lesion.I had an excisional biopsy. The surgeon removes a small portion of tissue in the area where the stereotactic was performed. and sends the sample to the lab for determination of disease. This was supposed to be a teaspoon of tissue and turned into a partial mastectomy, as my surgeon thought it best to try to remove every bit of the area that had micro-calcifications. I wasn't too happy when I woke up and she told me the news; we had not even discussed the possibility of that prior to my surgery. I went home with instructions to take it easy and not lift anything for a few days, don't take motrin or aspirin, ice for pain and swelling,etc. Everything would be fine.She neglected to tell me to wear a tight sports bra for support. Everything seemed fine until the next morning when I woke up and rolled over in bed. I felt something let go inside my breast. Over the course of the next hour or so, my breast began to swell. And swell. I called the doctor and went in right away. When my husband and I arrived, we were told that my surgeon wasn't there, she was on vacation. She hadn't told me. I saw an associate who was very nice, examined me without touching me, and told me I probably had a small bleeder and should be fine; it would stop on its own. Come back in two hours if it continued to swell. I went home and waited, and went back in two hours; still growing. I was told again that the bleeding should stop on its own, come back in 2 hours. By this time my breast was enormous and the covering doctor had changed. He sent me to the hospital right away. I had to wait for the surgical repair as I had eaten ONE cookie in the afternoon; I should have listened to that inner voice and not eaten anything, in spite of what the first doctor had said. It's too risky to have surgery for at least six hours after eating solid food. As I waited in the hospital for my time to pass, two of our closest friends came to keep Paul and me company. They could not believe how large I had gotten. I like to joke about it now and say that I normally have oranges, but now I had an orange and half a watermelon. No exaggeration. Sometime after midnight, I had my second surgery. So much for a simple procedure and quick recovery.When she first saw me, one of the covering nurses made a remark about how it's sort of like when you are engorged from breastfeeding when your milk first comes in. I answered her that was true, but when you are breast feeding you haven't had a third of your breast removed the same day. She didn't have much to say after that. I know she meant well and to lighten my mood, but I was tired after so many hours of pain and no food or water. Dr. Simon was wonderful and kind when he finally came from the O.R. he had been in for the last few hours. He told me I had had enough of pain and would put me to sleep right away. No twilight sleep this time, full anesthesia. When I woke up he said that he couldn't find the bleeder as it had finally stopped, but he evacuated the hematoma and cleaned up the area and I should be feeling much better soon. I was taped up very tightly and told NOT to wear any bra and to see him in two days unless there was any problem. I went home the next day. My husband was kind and thoughtful and wonderful during all of this. He took excellent care of me through it all. You might wonder why I don't mention him very often when I write; it's because he told me he doesn't want me writing about him in my blog. So I keep it to a minimum out of respect for him. But he's the best nurse ever and I love him. :0)

When the biopsy results came back, it was what they expected; ADH; pre-cancerous. Come back for mammos every six months for the next two years, and yearly after that if all stayed clear. I hate that all of this happened, but I would still do exactly the same thing; go for my mammo, and then sonogram for cysts. I would still have the stereotactic biopsy, (and have had another one since then) and I would still go for the excisional biopsy(I have done this again too). The next time around I asked the new surgeon and the oncologist about my bleeding problem. They asked many questions and were surprised that no one had ever followed this for me before.(I will spare you the complete details of my history, but it began when I was 3 1/2 years old, had my tonsils out, hemorraghed, nearly died and had a transfusion of a full pint of blood. Adults have 8 pints, but little kids have maybe 4. rather significant) I always tell this history that doctors should have picked up on. Remember that you are your own best advocate and if you think there might be something they are missing, press them for answers. I have a platelet disorder called Von Willebrand's trait. Now I get medication prior to any surgery and have no problems.

I am an advocate for mammos every year. Early detection will save your life. Don't make excuses that you are too busy, mammos hurt, there's no history in your family, or anything else. Begin at forty if you live on Long Island; the breast cancer rate here is one in four. It is one in nine for the rest of the country. We still don't know why that is, but it is reason enough to get your baseline mammo early and every three years after that until you are fifty, when it should be yearly. I will tell the rest of my story in a day or two. Check back if you are interested.