Picture Everyone Bald

My hair is growing back.  It's salt and pepper in color and growing just around the rim of my head.  The top is still bald.  Perhaps the hair there is blond because it's very soft to the touch.  I'm believing for a full head of hair one day soon!

I'm feeling stronger the more I am able to eat.  Each day I have more energy to be active. Sometimes I overdo it and push myself beyond the limit, something I used to do before I was diagnosed (again) with cancer.  I wonder if pushing myself "beyond" and experiencing that stress and overwhelm is part of what provided an environment for cancer to return to my body in the first place.  

In my private practice I preach to my clients about setting boundaries, maintaining appropriate limits within relationships and with themselves.  These boundaries can mean learning to say no, or taking time for oneself, setting limits and putting a cap on time or emotion spent on someone else.  Life without limits can lead to overwhelm, exhaustion and bitterness. 

As my hair grows back and I have more energy I feel like I'm rediscovering myself.  While I feel renewed in some sense, I see much of the old ways coming back into play.  Pete is having to remind me once again to "stop doing things and just rest."  I've never been good at setting boundaries with myself in that way.  So now that I am returning to strength I am nervous; nervous that I won't remember the lessons learned and will just charge ahead with life at full speed.

I'm also unsettled about the way others will treat me.  It is simply amazing the amount of compassion and empathy that is poured out on a person who is ill.  As for me, the amount of support, love and prayers that have been lavished upon me is so meaningful and healing.  I appreciate it, I receive it with gratitude. 

Even people I don't know are so very kind to me when they see my bald head.  Because 9 times out of 10 we all know a person with a bald head is probably undergoing chemotherapy and/or radiation treatment for cancer.  Seeing a bald head is typically as signal that someone is sick and really going through a difficult time.  When I am a recipient of such directed kindness it causes me to wonder what will happen when my hair grows back.  What will happen when strangers can't see the difficult healing journey I am on because my head doesn't provide evidence of it?  Will I be an annoyance or simply just another stranger?

Because that's what strangers are to me sometimes.  I hate to admit it, but it's true.  I fail to remember that everyone has a story.  We are all on a journey of healing, healing from one thing or another.  The least we can do is remember that and to have patience with one another.

I was discussing these things and confessing my shortcoming to my mom the other day.  She suggested, somewhat jokingly, "Maybe we should picture everyone bald."

While we chuckled about it we also realized there was something to that.  The empathy that I tend to receive because of the obvious illustration of my journey should be the same empathy extended to all regardless of their appearance.  I would love to be that person full of grace and compassion.  I can be that person at times, but when I am in a hurry and the line is long, I lose all sense of empathy.

This is abundantly clear to me: I do not want to return to the harried, hurried and harsh person that I can become when I am lacking boundaries; failing to protect myself from overworking and overachieving.  Learning to set clear boundaries with myself may be one of the major lessons I will learn during this time.  To preserve the level of self-care that I have implemented since my most recent cancer diagnosis is paramount.  That will involve reserving time for myself and my family; to limit the expectations I put upon myself to "do".  I can see clearly that when I am moving at a measured pace, fully present in the moment, I am a better wife, mother, friend and a more empathic stranger.  

So as I continue the process of learning to set healthy boundaries for my own wellbeing, I will also picture everyone bald.  Because we all have a story and I truly desire to treat others the way I have been treated throughout this cancer story.  

Me, Being Real (take 2)

I'm so upset right now I can't stand it.  I'm so angry I could punch a wall and so disappointed that I'm crying my eyes out.  I just spent a couple hours on a post that spoke my heart, was encouraging for me to process through and I was excited about sharing and I. LOST. IT.
These are the bits and pieces I can remember at 1 o'clock in the morning, mad as hell...or just sad.  I share them with you now just feeling at a loss:



Full disclosure: I'm jealous of healthy people.  And even more than that, I find myself imagining what it might be like to BE them.  If I see a beautiful, strong woman I think about what it must be like to be her: to have legs that can run, hair down my back and whole, healthy breasts.  I daydream about feeling confident, secure and sexy.
But I know that woman I am looking at doesn't have it "all" the way it appears.  In any given moment I too can be all of those things I wish to be and others may look at me with envy.  

My children laugh or call my name.  This is my beautiful reality.  I want to be here with them each moment.  When I look at them, touch them, speak to them I think about their father.  Our union brought them into being.  Our life together created these 4 beautiful creatures and I can't imagine anything else.  

Nine years of marriage to Pete has seemed longer and shorter.  These years have been filled with joy and laughter.  We are really going through it here and even in the times we are both difficult to be around I wouldn't want anything or anyone else.  At the end of the day there are kisses, hugs and prayers.  We hold each other tight and trust God for sleep and another sunrise.

But life is inconstant, isn't it?  That's what makes each moment so precious.

On my Facebook page I often share quotes from Henri Nouwen.  I often find his words to be wise, inspiring and even life changing.  I like this one because it highlights the importance of our vulnerabilities:  "If I am able to remember loneliness during joy, I might be able in the future to remember joy during loneliness and so be stronger to face it and help others face it." -Henri Nouwen
That is why I write.  To bring encouragement to myself through full exploration of the pleasure and the pain of life.  And to help others face their vulnerabilities and to celebrate with them in their victories.

In our vulnerability we become open to receive the gifts that others have to give that we may otherwise have denied because we believed we didn't "need" them.  As my mother used to tell me, you're robbing them of a blessing when you refuse the gifts they have to give.

I'd rather be out on a limb with Pete, Bobby, Teddy, Sam and Will than to be firmly planted on the ground without them.

I don't want to be anyone or anywhere else.  Truly.  Even in the midst of mental, emotional, physical and financial depletion I want to experience my whole life with all of my senses, with all of my being. 



As I finish patching together what I can remember of what I wrote the last couple of hours all I can do is shake my head.  It makes me so sad.  I don't know why I can't let it go.  I just want to convey my thoughts, feelings and experience in an eloquent and encouraging manner (and I DID before I LOST IT!)  You guys, I'm a mess inside. 

I know I'll be alright.  I know that God is my refuge and my strength so I won't be defeated.  I know I have love, support and prayers of family and friends all over this world...but I. am. a. mess.  That's just how it is.  No way around it, only through.

I feel like I'm an icicle on black top, high noon in mid July=cannot keep it together.  And that's me, being real.

I Have to Tell it Like a Story

I have to tell this like a story, it's easier for me to relate the details without getting overly emotional...

July 10, 2015
"It's getting tougher," I told Pete through my tears and from the crook of his neck where I had hidden my face.
We stood in the middle of the exam room where the surgeon had just left us.  Today was the day I had hoped to be scheduling my surgery and to have a clear plan to end this cancer treatment.  But that was not to be.  These two days in Skokie, which I had anticipated would be light and easy were by no means either.
Thursday was IV Vitamin C at The Block Center.  I was supposed to be receiving Herceptin (a Her2 blocker) by IV and was to receive it once every three weeks for the next year.  However because of a lowered ejection fraction and some symptoms involving my heart (as explained in my post "The Other Side of Struggle") it is being withheld.  The doctors want to see if my heart recovers after taking a break from the drug.  I had a repeat echocardiogram on Monday and we will wait for the results of that test before resuming the treatment.
In the meantime I received a vitamin cocktail by IV.  While at The Center I also met with Dr. Block and Dr. Kahn, my oncologist.  Before my last chemo treatment Dr. Kahn had reduced the dose of my chemo by 50% and said that if this reduction did not reduce or resolve my side effects that this could be my last/final treatment.  After experiencing all of the same side effects along with the recurrence of another issue I had thought had resolved.  I assumed I was done with chemo in this case.  Yesterday when I met with Dr. Block and Dr. Kahn they both implored me to have the 6th treatment as prescribed.  They asked me to at least consider it.  I agreed that I would.  Through tears and with a cracking voice I expressed my concerns about all the side effects as well as my uneasiness regarding the toxicity of adding yet another chemo treatment to an already weakened heart and body.
Dr. Block laid out fair and substantiated arguments for the 6th treatment based on the information he has available to him.  He addressed my concerns and stated that ultimately the decision was mine and he would continue to help me either way.  He is intelligent and kind, and I am thankful to have him on my team.
I struggled to relax as we left The Center that night.  Pete reminded that a decision does not need to be made immediately.  I should take the time to relax, pray and seek peace, he encouraged.  Every day this man reminds me of his unconditional love and support.  Pete is amazing and so patient with me.  I'm so blessed by this man.
I woke up this morning after a typically restless night.  I successfully slept four hours at the outset of the night, woke up and had trouble getting back to sleep, finally to enjoy two full hours of sleep just before having to get up.  I awoke with a smile, climbed out of bed and thought out loud, "This is going to be a great day!"  The weather matched my mood: sunny, bright, warm and pleasantly breezy.
We made it to the doctor's office early and were seen on time.  It was perfect.
Once the doctor examined me the visit went down hill.  Here's the long and short of it: the type of reconstruction surgery I had wanted to have is no longer a viable option for me because of my weight loss due to chemo.  This news was devastating.  Since my first appointment with the surgeon three months ago I had been talking myself into a surgery that I felt was the lesser of the evils.  At this moment I was being forced to rethink everything I had been considering and planning for.

At this point I haven't come to any conclusions.  These decisions are weighing heavily on me.  I feel very responsible.  Responsible to do what is best not only for myself but for my husband and children.   I'm trying to rest and not rush, to seek peace in my decision-making.  While I feel overwhelmed and wish I had a lighted path before me, I am clear on two things.  One, there are no guarantees whatever I choose.  And two, regardless of any decision I might make I am not the one ultimately in control here.  We might like to think that we have control but truly the only thing we have control over is our response to whatever and whomever comes to us in life.  
As we drove home from Skokie a song came into my head and I began to sing words that brought comfort in the midst of the emotional storm.  "I lift my eyes up unto the mountains-where does my help come from?  My help comes from You, Maker of heaven, Creator of the earth." (Psalm 121:1-2)
I accept this comfort and I continue to seek peace.

I Wish it Was Always Summer in Northern Michigan

July 4, 2015
We are wrapping up our family vacation here in beautiful Cheboygan, Michigan.  This is where I grew up and where my parents still reside.  Northern Michigan is paradise in summertime!
Five years ago all three of my siblings and I, along with our families, were together at my parent's home for the summer holiday.  We determined then that we would do our very best to make the 4th of July an annual event.  Having all four Fenlon kids together in the same place at the same time was such a significant event (it had been YEARS) that we all expressed the desire to make this a tradition.
Unfortunately, time, money, work schedules and distance make this difficult.  While my family and I have been able to manage to make it up 4 years out of the last 5 my other siblings have had a more difficult time making the trip back.
We truly enjoy spending time with my parents, Aunt Betty, Emillie and the Kwiatkowski gang, and any other family or friends we are able to connect with while we are there.  There's nothing like quality time with family and there's nothing like summer in Northern Michigan.
The weather here is warm but mild.  In Illinois where we live it seems it is either hot or cold, summer or winter.  We are either running the air conditioning or the heater.  Somehow the milder, transitional seasons of spring and fall have been cut out altogether.  Not in Northern Michigan.
The colors still show themselves, bold and rich, on the leaves of the trees for weeks at a time beginning late September and lasting sometimes into November.  The air turns crisp and cool, football weather, we call it.  An in my hometown of Cheboygan, Michigan, there's nothing bigger than football.
The winters are long, cold and precipitous.  There is always lot of white, lovely snow.  It doesn't turn brown or dingy the way snow in the city does.  It remains clear and pristine.  This could be due to the consistently fresh layer that falls almost daily.  The lakes freeze over fairly early providing even more space for winter sports and adventure.  Snowmobiling, ice fishing and cross country skiing are big in these parts.
After many months of this wonderland of ice and snow, the season gives way to spring.  Ah, Spring, wet and wonderful!  The snow slowly melts leaving puddles in driveways and yards.  Winter coats are exchanged for spring jackets.  Umbrellas are pulled out of the closet and put to good use.  The sun shows itself more and more throughout Springtime.  The ground begins to warm and brilliant green buds surface as a result.  It is a lovely time of year.
But my favorite time of year in Northern Michigan is Summertime.  The plentiful waterways come alive with boats, jet skis, rafts and swimmers.  People you haven't seen all winter either return to the area or are now venturing out of doors.  The mornings and evenings are cool inviting activity and exercise.  The days are warm, thanks to an amazing sun who shows itself more frequently and whose rays and warmth are actually felt.  There is usually a sweet lake effect breeze that sweeps through town.  Where my parents live 5 miles out the air is often still which makes the warmth of the sun even more substantial and effective.  I love it.
The green grass of the yard; the tall grass, wildflowers and weeds of the meadow behind the house, the trees of the forest that surrounding there home; the isolation I despised as a teenager now comforts me in adulthood.  I love it.
This July 4 was one such idyllic summer day.  As we sat in front of the church my parents pastor on Main Street I thought about how much I truly love this town and those who live here.  The 4th of July parade participants marched along in front of me.  My youngest child, William, sat on my lap.  And as the bagpipes from Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, Canada came along, tears were streaming down my cheeks.
I visited my mom's naturopath last week.  She did some talking with me and testing and found that my hormones are out of wack.  "You get upset over the littlest things, don't you?" she asked.  I confirmed this.
She also found that only about 2% of my sleep is deep, reparative REM sleep.  "You must be exhausted!" she empathized.  Again, I was able to confirm this and told her of my irregular sleep patterns.  All in all the visit served to confirm some things I already knew, prove to me I'm not just overly emotional or crazy, to highlight some issues I wasn't aware of and ways to address all of the above.  
So as I sat at the 4th of July parade with tears in my eyes I opened my heart to the bittersweet moment.  "If only I could save time, make a moment last longer than just 'a moment'," I thought.  And with that, the bagpipers had moved on and the race car displayed on the tow truck came along with radio blaring.  My idyllic moment had passed.
As the truck and race car with loud music approached William began to bounce on my lap in rhythm to the music.  I wiped away my tears as I began to laugh with joys the child in my lap showed his enjoyment and contentment in THIS moment.
I realize each moment holds something special for us; gifts wrapped in varied packages.  I don't want to throw away a gift before unwrapping it just because I don't care for the packaging!
Summer in Northern Michigan is fantastic and in some ways I truly wish it could always be summertime there.  But I wouldn't want to forfeit the beauty that comes with the fall, winter and spring in order to maintain summer.  I want all creation has to give and to experience each moment of life open to what it holds.

More Than Sufficient

Let nothing disturb thee

Let nothing dismay thee

All things pass

God never changes

Patience attains 

All it strives for

(S)he who has God

Lacks nothing

God alone suffices.

-St. Teresa of Avila

I love this prayer. I think it's beautiful. That last word, however, leaves me feeling unsatisfied every time. Because this God, my God, MORE than suffices. "Suffice" by definition means to meet or satisfy a need; to be competent or capable. This is a good thing, great even. I find the word "lavish", meaning to give in great amounts without limit. I find this word to be more fitting because in my life, no matter what, God has proven to be faithful, His provision and grace more than sufficient. He lavishes His love on me and has throughout my life (I John 3:1). All that has been required of me is to be open to growth and patient within the process of change. (NOT easy!)  While I work toward a positive attitude in this, it doesn't always come easy. There are plenty of times where I'm disappointed at my lack of patience. The process can be so challenging and those nearest and dearest to me are the ones who suffer. If I don't feel well or am discouraged, they know it. Despite my behavior they have been supportive and patient with me. This most recent cancer diagnosis and treatment has been a growing experience to be sure. But growing always comes with some amount of pain, doesn't it?

2 Corinthians 9:8 "And God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that by always having enough of everything, you may share abundantly in every good work."

This passage is particularly beautiful to me. It reminds me that in the midst of the most trying times, of brokenness or pain, when I feel as if I have nothing to give, God's blessings to me are abundant and I will always have more than I need so I can share the goodness. I choose not to live my life with the mindset of poverty or as a victim but rather with a mindset of abundance and blessing. While I know my body's tendency toward anxiety and sensitivity toward stress, my spirit and my mind are set on the goodness of God. Not just today when I am starting to feel strong again, but every day. There is more to life than the moment, but I want to live each moment purposefully. I remain open to the lessons of growth and pain. I receive the blessings from a good God. I share goodness with those around me. After all: "She who has God lacks nothing. God alone [lavishes]".

The Other Side of Struggle (Not Beyond it)

I'm done with chemo.  The oncologist and I spoke before my last treatment and due to my somewhat extreme and adverse side effects he reduced my dose by 50% total last week.  He said if the side effects were the same, though he was convinced I wouldn't feel them at all this time, then I would just be done.  The side effects were the same and I even had a side effect that had disappeared return.  I am done with chemo.
It has been a bit anti-climatic I must admit.  There is a sense that something is still hanging over my head.  The plan at this point is to continue with Herceptin (a Her2 blocker drug) once every three weeks for the next year.  This will be done through IV at The Block Center.  I want to go there so I can also receive my IV Vitamin C.  The problem with this plan, however, is the condition of my heart.  I had an echo done before my last treatment and found that my ejection fraction was diminished by 20%.  Ejection fraction is the measurement of how much blood the left ventricle of  the heart is pumping with each contraction.  A normal ejection fraction is somewhere between 55 and 70.  Mine is 40.  I looked that up on the American Heart Association website: http://www.heart.org
It says, and I quote, "An ejection fraction between 40 and 55 indicates damage, perhaps from a previous heart attack, but it may not indicate heart failure."  May not indicate heart failure.  Oh good.
The decrease in my heart function is attributed to the Herceptin.  I was not given Herceptin at my last treatment due to the results of this echo.  The doctors I spoke with seemed confident that withholding this dose will allow my heart to bounce back and they expect to see an improvement in my ejection fraction next week when I have the echo repeated.
Of course I am concerned for my heart, which has already taken on a lot of hard-hitting drugs in it's day.  I had a lifetime dose of a chemotherapy drug called Adriamyacin in 1991-92 which is also known to damage heart function and was found to indeed have damaged mine.
Going forward I still have some very weighty decisions to make.  I am concerned about the health and function of my heart.  I also want to be sure I am doing what is necessary to deal with the cancer that is Her2 positive and the only reason I would be taking Herceptin in the first place.

I went to a gentle yoga class on Wednesday morning.  I've been wanting to go and since the boys are with their Mimi and Papa I took advantage of the opportunity.  It was a quiet, soft, slow-paced class.  Perfect for my needs.  Throughout our time together we practiced ujayi (a form of deep breathing, in and out of the nose).  I teach deep breathing to my clients and use a different style, breathing in through the nose and exhaling through the mouth.  I found ujayi to be very challenging.  I kept wanting to open my mouth, especially since with the exhale we were instructed to make a soft noise that only we could hear.  With each exhale I was working to keep my mouth shut and also to coordinate making a noise at the same time.  Well, the noise in my ears sounded like panting or choking or at the very least something very uncomfortable.  I was struggling.  Then the instructor said, "The only rule is not to struggle.  No struggling here.  Just do what you are able."
I felt freed, released to not breath right, if that's what I was doing.  With the next exhale the sound in my head was no longer a choke but instead like a gentle whisper or soft breeze.  My pauses in between each breath were not forced or held tightly, they were simple and gentle pauses.  This deep breathing practice that I've taught for years took on new life and meaning for me in that moment.

Since then I have reflected on the transition and recognized that once I let go of struggling, once I set myself free from the expectations of doing it "right" I easily entered into a relaxed state where that style of breathing seemed natural to me.  This led me to wonder more about the concept of struggle and to consider what else I might keep myself from.
I listened to an interview with Mary O'Malley, author of the book "What's in the Way IS the Way".  I haven't read the book yet but I enjoyed the interview and her gentle perspective on life.  She talked about the fact that there will always be struggle.  Life is like the yin/yang, a dance of light and dark.  But if we incorporate and include all of our experiences in life and stop trying to "rid" ourselves of what is uncomfortable or undesirable then we move toward healing.
Graham Cooke, a Vineyard pastor from the UK, has a two-part YouTube series called "The Art of Thinking Brilliantly" https://youtu.be/sYlpHy3Pvl0 in which he also addresses adversity, trial and struggle in life.  He poses these questions: What if every trial we face is meant to advance us, to grow us?  What if struggle is meant to bring us closer to and make us more aware of the goodness of God?
As I considered all that I had been experiencing and posed these questions to myself I came to this conclusion.  To me there is another side to struggle that has nothing to do with discomfort or pain.  To me the other side of struggle IS the goodness of God, the light in the dark, wisdom gained in the midst of chaos or adversity.  So while I face more difficult decisions I rest in the fact that I am not confronting a foe but instead I am approaching the Throne of Grace and ultimate Goodness.  I am not entering a battle but am dancing in the light.  I can rest in the fact that no matter the circumstance I will grow here. 

Thoughts on Being

Before being diagnosed with cancer (the second time) I found that my life was very overwhelming.   Being the wife/mom in a family of 6 holds a lot of demands on time and energy.  Beyond that I also realized that I was putting a lot of demands on myself.  I had very high, often unrealistic expectations of myself to "do it all" and to always be "better".  One can only keep a perfectionistic pace for so long before the mind, body, spirit or all of the above begin to whisper messages to "slow it down" or "take care of me".  If you don't listen to the whispers then there will be consequences.
Somewhere along the way I did hear the whispers but wasn't sure about how to heed them. In June of last year I started working with an amazing nutritionist in my area, Kelli Bonomo.  I knew that for the sake of my blood sugar levels (I was diagnosed with diabetes in 2001 and had never worked with a nutritionist) and my body's wellbeing that this was a very important step.  Working with Kelli for over 6 months really helped me to learn to balance what was on my plate, to learn to fuel my body effectively and to care for it with food.
Through conversations with Kelli and in personal quiet time that I was learning to carve out for myself, I began to realize and contemplate other areas of my life that required attention such as the pressure I was putting on myself and what that was doing to my emotional and spiritual self.  During this time of reflection I realized how caught up I was with "doing" and rarely let myself simply "be".  It was at that point I began to allow myself to be, letting go of the expectations for doing.
The following is the result of this personal discovery:

BE

Grateful

What am I thankful for?

Active

What is my favorite form of movement?

Creative

How do I express myself most positively?

Well-Fed

What are my favorite healthy foods?

Positive

What are my strengths?

Spiritual

How do I pray, meditate, relax?

Restful

How is my quiet time and sleep?

Supportive

Gifts are for giving.

I asked myself these questions over the course of time to consider where I was at with each area of my life.  In acknowledging my state of being I was able to allow what was true of me and my person to come forward.  I didn't have to strive or struggle to change, be better or do more, I simply had to BE; to be genuine and true to who I already was.  I also realized that while there are external demands that others would put upon me coupled with those I put upon myself, but the truth of that matter was giving is an organic part of being as well.  We are each gifted in unique ways.  So I realized if I allowed myself to be who I was designed to be then giving of myself (in the ways that only I can) is simply a natural expression of my being.

This paradigm shift was an amazing part of my growth in the last year.  I revisit it now in the midst of  a situation that could be a war/struggle/fight if I chose to approach it that way.  But as I've said before, I choose to float not fight with this cancer.  I choose to BE.