Thanksgiving does not mean giving thanks.

As I spend time recovering from a wonderful thanksgiving with family, and friends I am reminded of this time last year. I could barely sit up and watch my family eat and cook let alone focus. I was terrified that wiuld be the last of those days. Christmas was worse. So imagine my parents and friends surprise that I managed to stay on my feet and cook a ham and a turkey sweet potatoes ( with help) dressing, fresh cranberries, corn and slow cooked greed beans and croissants. I baked ten pies and wore out before I could make the tassies. I was pretty worn out by then and spent a good deal of time over the next days resting and spending time with my family. The mood was very different and the day was truely one of giving thanks. That led me to wonder though, is thanksgiving the same as giving thanks.

No it is not. Giving thanks is when in the course of life you find yourself at the whim of someone else's mercy. No matter how you try you need help or love, compassion or care, you know the stuff of life. Lately I have been in that spot lately. Being ill and raising my beautiful son of 17 years, ( who was just accepted to the university of Arkansas , college of engineering thank you very much lol) I have required a lot of care. Walking even talking some days is a real challenge. But, I am blessed. And I am thankful.

I am thankful that I have Jennifer klym to look after me.  Nathan klym for helping teach Brandon the ways of manhood as a Christian man. The cueball club, my oldest brother Wally and his son Joshua.   

My beautiful son Brandon, and Nathan and yes even Jen Klym! The hairdresser. ( I know right)! Charlie for coming during my fist surgery, and wally And his family for the visits to look after me. Then there is my mother and father who have been there every step of the way. Jim and Maryanne Colter, Doug colter, Laura and Richard Lofland, Carolyn liozzi and all my endless cousins who have been praying. The little theatre company of crittendon county, for hats love prayer and support. My friends who have loved and supported me. I am sure I am missing so many people today, but for this moment I want each of you to know how much thanks and love I have for each of you. I don't always get to express how much iam loving each of you andam thankful for your place in my life.

With love 

According to how you know me,

Kristi

Kris

KC

Krissyrae

Rissykris

Ratchetjaw

And finally

Krissy Teenie Raey Halley.

Hello readers, please be patient...

I have been very ill and now recovering but new posts are coming soon. I work on them as I have energy but as I have learned. When the body takes a knee, you better go with it... 

Hoping all are finding good heath and joy

KC

I'm Still Standin'...

I haven't written much lately because I have been in the hospital and have been very sick. I recall making the comment in my last post about what else i would have to endure...God is funny.

I am still working through the issues that landed me in the hospital and critical care, but I will be just fine. I have a hereditary angiodema and chronic urticaria. Unfortunately I can longer take Motrin. That's OK, I am still here and still raising my kids. I have great friends who help a lot so I am blessed. I say I'm still standing about my recent experiences but also about all I have seen and learned.

First things first, I am moving slower and now wonder if there will ever be a day that I am able to be in a normal relationship while my skin chooses its own time to blister and puff and do it's own thing. My thoughts on that are simple. Who cares. I am me. I have no control over what genetics does in this case. I obey the Doctor, and do what i can, beyond that, its out of my hand. Love me or don't, like me or not, I know Gods plan for me is perfect and I will have the joys and dreams of my heart in His time. In the mean time, anybody know a good way to excuse ones self when you begin to look ike a tomato? Lets laugh. I have not been doing that well lately so we are gonna start again.

While in a local hospital, I realized I was so familiar with the jargon that I kept asking them to shorthand it for me. As a writer, there is some irony in asking people to use less words and description rather than the detailed explaination most desire. Im tired, I just want to get the information and move on. Moving on in so many ways.

Why are we so mean?

I read non stop. anything I can my hands on History medical eighteenth century liturature, a few lovely fiction writers.  Imagine , if you will, my surpise when in reading an artical about a woman who chose to have her both breast removed after finding out she was positive for the bRCA1 gene, and whose mother how had died after a lengthly battle with ovarion cancer. She intended to have her overies removed soon after. Imagine that upon reading this my shock that one of the first comments was  "big deal, been there done that." several similar comments along those lines follow. We'll this post is very short.

One question. why are so mean?

Think about it.

Thriving after cancer is hard work, May I please take a nap?

Let me start by saying that I am grateful to be alive. Even more I intend to live everyday I get in some way that is consciously more involved and aware than the day before.  However, there is a real trend developing with high expectations about what survivorship looks like. With survivorship on an upswing (thank goodness), more than ever we are starting to look at survivors with a "what's next" attitude.  I think it's really a fantastic thing that we have this problem. More survivors is always a good thing, second only to less cases to begin with. There is this idea that after you face your death head on and live, there must be some greater purpose. As a survivor there can be a lot of pressure to do something profound. There is this idea that you need to find a deeper meaning and purpose in your life. I agree, when faced with something like this it is a great idea to re-evaluate your life and choices. Let me tell you what I went through though, as well as, many people I have known.

SO. As I have been telling you my story this is jumping ahead a little but its been on my heart after several people I know have really experienced major episodes of depression, of heartache, even in one case a lovely person who talked about feeling like a failure for not doing more.  When I questioned this my sweet friend explained that she was getting a lot of comments that she should be talking to people or advocating, or something more to give back. My heart was in a vise. I have been there. Feeling run ragged trying to keep up when I wasn't even whole yet, on a plane more than the ground because I didn't want other women to ever find themselves in my shoes. Not because of a lack of information. So I stumped my way across the country. I do not regret it. not one second. That said, I would love to talk to that woman who worked like her feet were on fire and tell her what I know now. Well This is what I would say.

Sit down. Take time to breath. Read a book. Sleep. These things are just as vital to survival as chemo, radiation, surgery and the like. There will be time to talk. There will be plenty of opportunities to "give back", and to use your voice. Its hard to rest when you feel like you have something to say. When you feel like you have a cause, a passion, a mission, you want to power through. Cancer picked a fight with me and I was fighting back. I wouldn't sit for it. Not for even a moment. Sounds great, a survivor full of passion, full of fire fighting against the bully. Unfortunately, I had not really taken the time to rest. I had no intention of allowing myself to wallow in the dispare I felt.  I cant really explain why I found this so hard, it was like I was a failure if I let myself grieve for all I had lost. Well I was very wrong.

I know now that the universe has a  way of putting you in your chair and taking a time out. My body needed time to rest and become as whole as it would ever be again. why didn't I listen. When women have children they tell you it will take your body almost a year to really return to its original pre-maternal condition. So why did I not realize that when my body was dissected, pulled apart that it might take some time before it was normal. Add to that, the mental and emotional side effects that come after cancer and its treatment. I keep a sense of humor about it but its not all fun and games. At the end of the day I am still here fighting healing and learning to thrive.

You want me to put my feet where???

When I was first diagnosed did not comprehend the indignities that my body and soul were about to go through. These things happen to so many people I wonder if we as a collective take the journey for granted. Cancer is so common and "we" are bombarded with cancer awareness and treatment, including commercials, billboards posters pamphlets I worry about our expectations. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, it's so wonderful that as a whole we are willing to hear and share so much information. It is one reason survival is so much more prevalent. However, until you live through something you can not truly understand it. It's the difference in empathy and sympathy. So how does a cancer patient, how do I, help people understand the quirkiness, anxiety and fear they or I feel?

First of all, I had three highly invasive surgeries, during which, my cancer was cut out of my body ripped apart and then rebuilt. The first surgery was several procedures in one. A very comman practice which makes it all too easy to minimize what is lost. At least it was for me. I had a radical hysterectomy which is the removal of the full uterus, cervix  and in my case a portion of my vagina. I had a bi lateral salpingo oopherectomy (bye bye to both overies and fallopian tubes)  and to add insult to injury I had a lymphnode dissection and then removal of other nodes. During the course of that first surgery a nerve was damaged, leaving serious neuropathy. I had a top rate surgeon, but when cancer is involved sometimes a nicked nerve is much better than letting cancer set up camp. I Had some issues waking up from the anesthesia which is normal for me, but otherwise that was uneventful in medical terms. Emotionally, the damage didnt show up to the party, for quite some time.

Only a few months later, I had the second surgery. It was invasive and painful, and I was determined not to let it affect me either. Unfortunately, I chose to have the surgery in the a.m. and then continue about my day and try to pretend it didnt happen. I say that because not allowing my self time to heal in between has caused my recovery to be slower and less successful. It also doesnt allow muc time for grieving what you lose each time. It all comes out in the wash as they say and in hindsight I should have taken the time. It was m decision and mine alone. If a regret is to be had, this is it.  Follow that with a ton of testing and genetic counceling, and soon it was time for surgery number three.

The third surgery was a reconstruction and repair surgery hoping to eleviate pain, and functionality. I've spent so much time with my feet in stirrups I'm starting to think I am a cowboy! I now pick out my wardrobe based on what socks to wear and what would cover me the best without pants.  I Think alot about how humiliating some of the things have been . How many strangers have seen me naked? I tried to count once and felt sick at over a hundred.

Here I was a thirty six year old, no longer able to have children, though I have a wonderful son from BC. Before Cancer. I found the man I was married to for over seventeen years has decided this is the best time to start a new life with other women. He moved out of our room on the day of my surgery and never moved back in. Add heartbreak to the devastation and humilation to boot. The humiliation I felt having my husband walk out so publicly and for another woman. Of course I know I am better of now. But tell me, how many of you want that sort of thing to be what everyone is talking about? So in front of everyone, and while I was sick and fighting for life, my son and I were thrown like tops on a floor spinning out of control. I tried to fix the marrage but nothing ever really worked. I was on my own with my son. Trying to build a man out of the clay as you do when raising boys is hard when you have become a puddle of mud. But God knew. He knew my needs, He knew my beautiful sons needs. He made a way. The divorce is something I will talk about later, but it deserved mentioning since it added yet again to my humiliation in the moment.

In those early days, I would wonder what else would I endure. How much more could I take? Then I decided, I can handle this. God is with me and if I trust in Him then I trust His plan is perfect. Besides, what was I going to do? Walk around crying all the time. I'm not built that way. Ok my Mom could have done with alot less of my "humor", but that's kind of how I deal. Well that and staying busy. unfortunately as I learned you cant outrun what life is throwing at you. You have to pull yourself up by the bootstraps and keep on moving. I no longer get frustrated when I hear alot of "this too shall pass" and "God wont give you more than you can handle", as I used to. I just remember that first, of course it will pass. The world doesnt stop turning. So if I am breathing I am living, Second, Of course God will give me more than I can handel, but He will never give me more than He can handle. So I turn it over to him and trust. I do all I can and stay in prayer, then having done all else, I stand on faith. Of course I do pray that my health care team is full of people with alot of patience, strength, wisdom and if you know me at all I pray for God and a little chocolate.

Its been a while now, four years since the first of those surgeries and other than one year of peace, have been fighting illness unrelenting. I have also been fighting to find me again. sometimes it's easier than others.  There is alot left for me to do but that's ok. Thats the stuff of life. I am bolder now than ever before. I am stronger now than any other time. I am braver now, than I ever thought I could be. As for my beautiful boy. He is thriving, and about to be a senior in high school. A little treat, one of the next posts will be written by him from his point of view. So we have that to look forward to. In the mean time, I will continue to work on my book, and getting healthy. Moving on...

Support isnt always supportive...

Hello there!

I have been spending the last few weeks recovering from a serious case of bronchitis and pleurisy. not fun.

So lets catch up.

In my second to last post I talked about how it felt to go through the first days of diagnosis, and there are a few things I need to mention. I have an amazing Doctor. He is caring and compassionate, and I believe, he is the tool God used to save my life multiple times. I am not an easy patient, I get nervous and frightened and at times my fear overrides my ability to reason, and take action. In those times he is able to pull out of me how I feel about my treatment plan. So, when I second guess my decision later I am able to rationally look back and find renewed confidence in the treatments we use. I am blessed that I have a great support system now. I have also empowered myself with knowledge. The bad days aren't as bad as they used to be. When I am sick I am reminded of all the people who were there for me and helped me avoid the mine field of "destructive support" verses "real support".

Today has been a long day for me, not feeling well and recovering from a prolonged infection it feels like it did being stuck in a hospital bed for so many months. These are the times where I feel most confident that if I can help even one person to understand treatment options and early detection and screening it will be worth it. every shallow breath, every tear, every scar. In those early days, women were there for me while I was at the clinic. Women who had been where I was, where I am. But finding support must be done with caution. We are hearing more and more about a small group of survivors, and those caregivers who are left behind, who for whatever reason want to tell the scariest  and most upsetting stories to current patients. I call this 'destructive support"

Why is this scary to me? There are many patients who are terrified of treatment and recovery because of horror stories they hear from others. I have had the same experience. When I'm out, wearing a scarf or with my head exposed, people want to talk to me. They tell me there stories, sometimes very tearfully. Sometimes it's wonderful and I am glad that they felt comfortable talking to me. I feel like we both leave a little lighter than we were. When they approach me, they talk about lost love ones and the upset they have endured. I wonder sometimes, if they received the "real support" they needed during a time of intense strain or grief. Sometimes though it's uglier. When new patients begin the process of treatment and recovery, they need lifted up, and so do their families. The last thing they need or want is to hear horror stories.  "My aunt died from that, she was in so much pain we just had to let her go". To many times they reach out for support only to feel trapped in a group with people who have an arsenal filled with scary stories. Support groups are out there, for patients and caregivers, but if you attend and find yourself on the end of everyone else's horror stories, feel free to excuse yourself and find a support group that focuses on "support".  Take time to empower yourself in the midst of your own nightmare.