Month: July 2019

grief + gratitude

This post was written by Bethany. This is our fourth update on Bethany’s cancer journey, to see older posts scroll down. Thanks for reading.

July 25

I believe in a blessing I don’t understand

I’ve seen rain fall on the wicked and the just

Rain is no measure of his faithfulness

He withholds no good thing from us

I believe in a peace that flows deeper than pain

The broken find healing in love

Pain is no measure of his faithfulness

He withholds no good thing from us

– Sara Groves, “Open My Hands”

 

I had chemo yesterday. I hate chemo. It’s hard to imagine that this poison being pumped into my veins is saving my life, but it is. That tension sums up so much of my life these days… so much grief and gratitude all mixed together.

One thing that could be hard for people to understand is that even on my “normal” days, I don’t feel normal. My life is not normal. I’m out of the house, I have my hair, I might have a smile on my face but I’m constantly aware that things aren’t normal.  I am so grateful that I get to have so many good days in between treatments.  But honestly? Being so damn grateful all the time can be exhausting. That probably sounds entitled and might not make sense to many people, but it’s true.  When I have a good afternoon with Nora, when I go on a date with Ben, when we get to see friends and relax, I’m always filled with a deep sense of gratitude, but what often follows is grief.  Grief for the true normal I long for, when I’m not just counting down to the next chemo treatment and the following painful sick days. I never realized that “normal” is a privilege that can be taken from you, and that makes me angry and sad and tired.

The song I quoted above is one that has been on repeat for me lately.  It’s a song I’ve listened to through many trying times in my life, and I think it holds the tension well.  It challenges me to think through my beliefs and their working out in my life. I hate so many things about this season, but the truth is that I wouldn’t trade it.  I’d like it to be over and done with, but I know that God is creating a new depth within me.  He is expanding our capacity to do hard things, to care for people well, to experience prevailing peace and presence in the midst of deep pain. I choose to believe in this season that God is withholding no good thing from us- we have exactly what we need, his love and presence being at the top of the list.  I might sing this song through tears and gritted teeth sometimes, but I cling to that truth and hope. I am filled with grief, I am filled with gratitude, I am new and I am being made new.

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small victories

This post was written by Bethany. This is our third update on Bethany’s cancer journey, to see older posts scroll down. Thanks for reading.

July 24

Some tangible things have gotten better over the past couple of weeks. The days are still a rollercoaster, emotionally and physically, but we’ve had good news and some positive steps to celebrate in the midst of the storm. Some good highlights to share:

We had a really encouraging meeting with my oncologist. Ben says that in a past life, my doctor was probably a spin instructor, haha. He is extremely upbeat and makes everyone in the room clap for me during every visit. We found out that my tumor is almost gone, so the chemo has been working really well.  All that’s left to get is the rest of the tumor, residual tissue and any microscopic cancer cells throughout my body.

Though we still wish I could just be done early, especially with that positive news, it is helpful to know that no matter what, we are sticking to the original 6 month treatment plan.  I won’t have another scan until after my last chemo. As odd as it sounds, it’s nice to just take the option of being done early off the table, so we don’t have to spend so much mental energy poring over that outcome. I have a firm finish line, and we can look forward to that.

In response to my positive progress, the doctor removed one drug from my chemo treatments. It’s the harshest of the 4 that I was on, and can cause significant long term damage to your lungs. Along with the relief of avoiding those long-term effects, my post-treatment side effects are a little less severe, and I get my energy back a couple of days earlier.

I had been on blood thinner injections since I was in the hospital, giving myself a shot every morning and night.  It wasn’t too bad at first, but when my dosage changed, the needles were different and the whole process became extremely painful and stressful. Last week I finally got to transition to a pill instead, which has made a huge difference! I’ll be on blood thinners until chemo is over, just to be safe. Cancer and chemo can cause blood clots, so I can’t take any chances.

I started going to therapy to process this whole experience, and it’s been really helpful so far.  I really enjoy my therapist, and I feel good knowing that I’m doing something for my mental, spiritual, and emotional health. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time, and I’m grateful for the motivation to get in there!

Trying to celebrate every small and large win along the way.  Thanks to everyone for your prayers, encouragement, and support. xoxo

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scan results

This post is from Bethany, written earlier this week. Since then, we’ve received a lot of encouragement from her oncologist and things have started to look brighter. That being said, cancer is a roller coaster and we want to let you in on the journey, as a lot of these feelings are still present.

Last week, we received the results from my latest scan.  The good news is that the chemo is working and my tumor is shrinking, but we were disappointed to learn that my treatment would continue on the original plan of 6 months total, leaving us with 4 more months to go. Well, disappointed is an understatement. Honestly, the news was devastating. We felt sure that I was either cancer-free or very close to being done.  The reality of four more months of chemo is so hard to comprehend and accept.  It’s caused us to question a lot and wrestle and lay if all out there this week.

For the past two months, I’ve had so much faith that I will be healed, and quickly.  Since the day I came home from the hospital, I had a clear sense that I would be done early. We had so much peace, we were covered in prayer and encouragement and meals. Even through the first few chemo treatments, it all felt so temporary. God’s presence and peace was so close to us, and we took that as assurance that we could power through and just be done with all this cancer nonsense. I felt so brave and optimistic- look at me! Laughing in the face of cancer! Pat me on the back!

It felt brave and hard then, but what I’m learning is that it’s actually really easy to have faith for the things you desperately want to happen. Which is not all bad, it’s a just funny mixture of my own desperation and my firm belief that God moves and heals today. Put them together and voila! Surely it must come true. What is much harder, nearly impossibly hard, is to trust God and have faith when the miraculous does not happen.  When the healing doesn’t come, when the scan isn’t clear, when you get the news you don’t want to hear. Up until now, we were really just waiting for all of this to be over.  Now I’m trying to figure out what it means to accept and live my life right now, without checking out or getting depressed or clinging to blind optimism. Previously I had faith only for the waiting, not the living.

I feel like I’m starting over.  I feel like I’m going through the stages that most people go through when they very first get their diagnosis. I’m angry, I’m confused, I’m heart-broken.  I’m grieving the looming loss of my hair, the possibility of infertility, the fact that I’ll spend Nora’s first year in this cycle of pain, only half-present with her. Chemo sucks. It’s so hard on your body and your mind.  Even when you know what to expect, it truly never gets easier. I still regularly feel shocked that I have cancer, that this is my life.

And in the midst of all that, when I get a moment of perspective, there is this: I will live.  My treatments have an end date, my doctor tells me I’ll be cured.  How many people get to hear that with cancer?  I am truly grateful for these things.  The blood clot that landed me in the hospital was so severe, I could have a very different story had I waited a few more days.  I’m here and I’m alive and I might not be whipping up homemade organic baby food and going to spin class, but I’m here and my life as a whole is filled with joy and my suffering has purpose.

This week I felt shaken to my core, and I’m trying to learn how to give this season to the Lord. When things seem dismal, I’m trying to learn how to lean on him for comfort, to discipline myself to seek his presence. In this season, I have the opportunity to grow into a level of faith that shares with Christ in his sufferings, a concept that our culture has no room for.  I do not want to miss that opportunity. Literally, through my heart-broken, confused tears, I raise a hallelujah.

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the story so far…

As you know, in May Bethany was diagnosed with Stage 2 Hodgkin Lymphoma. Throughout this time we have been overwhelmed by the love and support of our family, friends, church, and community. While we realized that there have been text threads and email chains, we haven’t been posting updates anywhere public beyond Instagram and Facebook. This means we are fielding a lot of questions when we are out and about. As you might expect, it’s tough to summarize our journey in a few short sentences, or to try and answer the question “how are you?” with any real nuance, detail, or clarity. The season is complex, with many ups and downs, and many learnings. So we decided to write down some of our experiences here, on a website that I have used off and on over the years as a creative outlet and for mission trip updates.

I doubt this will feel very formal or professional, and we won’t post everything we think or feel. But our hope is that this will give you a little glimpse into what it’s been like for us. By writing down some of our experiences as they unfold, I think it will help with a few things. First, I hope it will help us to process what we are going through. Second, I think it will be helpful for people to get to hear more of what we are experiencing without us having to share the same stories or feelings over and over. Third, I believe it will help people to pray for us more specifically, as God continues to heal Bethany, provide for us, and be with us.

That being said, here are some updates that we posted on Instagram over the past few months. I hope this will bring people up to speed on the story so far.

May 11

Bethany: “I’ve been having some random mysterious health issues since having Nora, and Tuesday night we finally got some answers. I have an extensive blood clot from my neck to my right elbow, which was caused by a 9×7 cm mass near my heart. Currently we are awaiting biopsy results, which could come some time mid next week. We are feeling so supported by our family and community, and so confident that God is fighting for me and already healing my body. Please be praying for 1) continued healing of the blood clot, which is under control 2) quick and benign biopsy results and 3) comfort for this mama who just wants to be woken up at 3 am by her baby and not a blood draw. We won’t be posting a lot of updates on here, but we will keep everyone posted on the biopsy results. Thank you to everyone who has been praying and encouraging us so far, it means more than you can know” 

May 15

Bethany: “My biopsy results came back and I have stage 2 Hodgkin Lymphoma. This is hard news, and we know it will be a challenging road ahead. The good news is that this cancer is highly curable with chemotherapy and my doctor is confident I’ll be cured. I started chemo yesterday, and it will last about 6 months with outpatient treatments every 2 weeks. We are so thankful for the care I’m receiving.

We are feeling God’s comforting presence and peace in the midst of how hard and challenging this is. We are feeling the prayer, love, and support from our family and community (both near and far). Thank you to all who are praying for us and supporting us right now. It means the world to us.

Please be praying that the cancer would be killed quickly and early in treatment, that my body responds well, and that pain and other side effects are as minimal as possible. Pray that I would be able to bond with Nora (who is already four and a half months old!), and have energy to experience the joy of mothering. Pray for Ben, that he will be strengthened and comforted as he cares for me and Nora. He has been a rock to me this week. Life is such a gift- the joy and the pain- so please be praying that Jesus increases our capacity to love and be loved by Him, each other, and all of you.”

June 25

Ben: “Bethany goes in for her fourth chemo treatment tomorrow, and a scan the day after (June 27). The scan will help us know what treatment will look like into the summer, but we are praying for a totally clear scan, and that she is fully healed. The journey has been crazy so far- really hard, painful, and surreal moments. Also so many stories of God providing for us and experiencing his presence. Often those things are happening all at once. We are so thankful for all the prayer, love, gifts, and kind words we have received from so many. Please continue to pray for Bethany, Nora, and me over the next few days. We love you all.”

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