Skin Cancer is Ugly (Warning: Graphic Image)

At 41 I've had skin cancer.  I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise.  I have fair skin, freckles, blue eyes.  I wasn't a sun lover, hated laying out like my friends, but I have had a few bad sunburns in my time.  My Grandma has had multiple skin cancers.  My Dad has had multiple skin cancers.  He's had melanoma, the worst of all skin cancers.  Luckily, his was caught at the earliest stages.  Still, it was a surprise.  It just was. 

Last February I had a little abrasion appear on my shoulder.  I just scraped it off and didn't think much about it, but it kept coming back until it formed a little oval, about the size of a pencil eraser if they were oval.  It caught my attention often because it just wouldn't go away, but it didn't look like a mole.  Then, when I found the lump in May and went into my doctor's office, I also mentioned the little abrasion.  My doctor told me I should get it checked out. This sounds simple enough, but there just aren't a sufficient amount of dermatologists in Great Falls, so she recommended a clinic in Helena.  The receptionist called and set up an appointment for me.

With all the breast biopsy stuff going on, the abrasion was overshadowed.  Then, in August, my cousin, grandmother, sister and I made a day of it in Helena as I went to have my little abrasion checked.  This doctor felt it needed to be biopsied, and she cut it off.  Before I left the office, she told me she thought it was basal cell carcinoma, but wouldn't know until it was analyzed.  I was glad she planted that possibility in my mind because the call telling me it was didn't catch me as off guard as it would have.

I was told the next step was Mohs surgery and the soonest they could fit me in was Oct. 19th. (The doctor only does them on Wednesdays).  Basal cell is a highly common form of skin cancer and very treatable, so I wasn't overwhelmed with worry.  Kurt, Cooper & I went to Helena and made a fun day of it as the surgery wasn't until almost 2pm.  Right before surgery was a full body check in which they did 2 more biopsies.  I'll get the results in a week.  The surgery took about an hour and a half.  I was very blessed that the doctor got it all the first time.

Today I removed the bandages.  I was caught off guard once again.  That little oblong eraser end was much more menacing than it appeared.  Skin cancers can be like icebergs, we only see the tip.  I feel a little like Frankenstein, which is appropriate for October.  This is my story, my experience.  Everyone's is unique.  I don't like to show off my skin, at all.  I'm a bit prudish.  In this case though, I want my family, my children, to realize the importance of listening to the Spirit, of following those promptings, of paying attention, of knowing your family history.  I don't even want to know what this would have involved had I put it off even longer.  Skin cancer is ugly.  The picture below is ugly.  Knowing the cancer is gone is beautiful.

Ramblings of a Couch Potato

It's a week and a half post surgery and I think I'm at about 80% of my old self.  I don't really like it.  All of the sudden laying in bed and never leaving sounds enticing.  Not pretty, but not surprising.  I had my post op appointment yesterday.  The bad news: I will feel lethargic for a few weeks.  It will take a few months for my insides to heal.  The good news:  It's okay if I'm not all that hungry, that will subside.  I'll never have to worry about my gall bladder again. As for now, I'm panicking.  Having  nightmares.  How does one teach having a bout of low energy?  How am I going to get up on time?  How am I going to efficiently put away books with my 20 lb lifting restriction?  If there isn't something to worry about...I'll make something up.

So last night I was alone and, of course, didn't sleep well.  The boys were camping.  Yep...CAMPING.  Did you see the pouring rain for days?  I kept thinking of my poor little skinny Cooper freezing in a damp tent.  It just sounds miserable to me.  I was never meant to sleep in a tent.  I remember going to girls camp in my teens and using all my camp bedding to try to create furniture in the tent.  Cabins are another story.  I think real women sleep in cabins...or hotels.

Today is an extra special day.  I get to attend 2 baptisms, one of a sweet little girl and the other my kind, compassionate cousin's.  There is a peaceful joy that attends these events and it's a blessing to all who attend.

How much do you think a laundry basket full of dirty clothes weighs?  Do you think that is over my weight restriction limit? How about a dirty plate?  The vacuum?  I'm now wondering if the doctor should have written a prescription for a housekeeper for the next couple of weeks.  Get up Leslie.  Get up.

Expendable Parts

It's fairly incredible to think of all the body parts we can live without. There are quite a few. My newest escapade involved a teeny little part called the gall bladder. Who knew something so tiny could cause such a commotion. I wasn't all that unfriendly with my gall bladder so it came as a surprise when it decided to make my life misery.

2 am Monday: I wake up covered in sweat with a horrible pain in my stomach, like someone punched or kicked me there. Sometimes Kurt is a little combative in his sleep, but I was pretty sure this was the flu as the feeling would not go away. I called into work, which I really did not want to do because I'm new and am trying to figure my job out. I was pretty much miserable all day, but I was determined to go to work.

6am Tuesday: I decide to go to work even though I'm not feeling great. The sweats had stopped and the pain in my stomach was coming and going so I figured I just needed to get through the day and I could rest that night. It wasn't the greatest day, but I survived.

2am Wednesday: Woke to that same horrible kick in the stomach and sweating like a crazy person. I got up, worked on my lesson plans to make sure they were super detailed and then stayed awake until 6am when I started calling the sub clerk again. Meanwhile, the pain would not go away.

10am Wednesday: I called the clinic to see if this strange flu was going around and they told me to come in right away. I called Kurt and off we went. Within 15 minutes of being there, my doctor pinpointed the gall bladder. Then I had blood, urine tests and xrays. He made an appointment at the GF specialty clinic for an ultrasound.

We went straight to my parent's home where Kurt & my Dad gave me a priesthood blessing. I was feeling pretty horrible. I tried to watch a show with grandma but couldn't concentrate so we went home.

2:30pm: We headed out for the specialty center, adding a throw up bowl to the mix. I pretty much started crying at this point and it didn't stop for most of the night. The ultrasound was painful and this is why: Gall bladder is distended and full of stones. Surgery is set for that night. Still...no relief from the pain.

4pm: We arrive at the surgery center where the OR is tied up so I have to wait. At about 7pm, I was wheeled down to the OR where the dry heaves decided to make an appearance. Finally I was wheeled in to the OR and the rest is gall bladder history.

After a night at the surgery center, I was able to leave yesterday afternoon. Now I am sore, and tired, and have a little bit of incision pain, but so much better than when I had the gall bladder flu. I'm so glad it isn't contagious.

I have had so many well wishes, prayers, food, flowers, socks,and visits that I'm feeling pretty spoiled. If you ever feel like you have been kicked in the stomach and it doesn't go away, keep the gall bladder in mind. It's expendable anyway.

The Apron Strings are starting to Fray

This has been one of my favorite summers.  Toasty warm during the day, cool and cloudy in the evening.  I can't believe how fast it's flown, but this is reflective of time in general.  Hunter left for Basic Training at the end of June.  Gone.  Just like that.  I've turned into one of those mother's who haunt the mailbox and super glue the cell phone to my hip on weekends.  I've never frequented either device more than I currently do. Another delightful surprise has been wet eyeball syndrome. I can't finish writing a letter without watering my mascara.  It feels as if my maternal responsibilities are dissipating, but I have so much more I need to teach them.  I have so many pitfalls I need them to avoid.  I have so much hope for the futures they can have. 


Hunter was bad enough, but all of the sudden Cooper has peeked his head around my apron and found a whole new world.  He went to Scout Camp with Kurt for 6 days and didn't even miss me a blink.  I admit the next one was my own fault, but the thought of walking around the Fair for 5 hours while Coop went ride hopping convinced me to encourage an adult free fair experience.  Today he and a friend took on the challenge, although Coop did voice his concern a couple of times.  Upon retrieval, after the exuberant R.V. report, I asked him if he did okay with any parental shadowing.  His response?  It was his best Fair ever.  My apron strings are starting to become thread barren. It's painful but necessary.


I promise one thing.  No matter how much wear and tear occurs, I'll never give that apron away.   It's a part of who I am, who I was meant to be.  A reminder of blessings of the past, challenges of the present, and hope for the future. 

Positive Reinforcement

Motherhood is hard.  Seriously challenging.  I remember when my boys were babies thinking it was hard because I was exhausted all the time and they were so dependent upon me.  I felt so much responsibility for every thing I did with them, or forgot, or messed up.  Many an adult told me how difficult the teenage years would be, how you just get busier as they get older, but I couldn't imagine it.  It couldn't be true.  Yet, here I sit, in the midst of it.  One who is considered an adult and one who is in the twilight of his tween life. 

On one hand, I reflect on what I could have done better, the teaching moments I missed, the pieces that don't fit.  I try to read between the lines and pick up on the clues, yet so much remains a puzzle. Then there are the times I can't believe the goodness in my children, much more than I could have taught them.  Those moments where their individual gifts are unmasked and I know I had no part in it, but I'm still so proud.  Today I saw one of those moments. 

Due to my new work location next year, Cooper will be attending a different middle school than all of elementary friends.  He was broken hearted, sobbing for hours which was quite reflective of how I was feeling.  I've watched him deliberately try to warm up to the idea.  Today was leap day and he was able to meet his team teachers and tour the school.  I took him, but stayed back and peeked at him from time to time.

One of the games they played was a type of "who did this" scavenger hunt and the kids were asked to approach other students they didn't know to get their initials on the things they had done.  It took me back to the many times I was forced to do this kind of thing, even as an adult, and how uncomfortable it made me feel.  I watched Coop go from person to person.  Part way into the game, a new girl came into the cafeteria.  It was obvious she had some special needs and there was an adult there to help her.  Immediately, Cooper went up to her.  He smiled at her, asked her to inital something on his paper, and then he initialed something on hers.

Tears filled my eyes as I watched his kind heart work.  I don't think I would have done that.  So I became the student and challenged myself to be more like him.  Moments like this are the kind of positive reinforcement mother's need.  The reminder that sometimes we get it right, or at least our kids do.

Adversity

Winter can be beautiful with clear, crisp air and a pure white landscape.  Winter can also be gray, gloomy, bitter, Sometimes it seems like the winters of our lives linger far too long.  I feel like I've been stuck in winter for a while now.  Most of the things that matter to me (family, health, shelter, employment) have come under attack, some multiple times.  Winter can be tiring but it's imperative I keep a grateful heart during my winters so hope can flourish. 

As a woman, there are a few things that make me feel vulnerable.  Recently I found a lump in my breast (anyone who knows me realizes it took great effort for me to type that).  The next day I called my doctor and she got me in within 30 minutes of my phone call.  I was in a state of subdued panic.  No one at work had any idea what was swirling in my thoughts. I didn't want to tell my family.  There's been phone calls of this job loss and that job loss, of painful family moments, of this move and that move.  I just couldn't make another emotional call.  I figured my family would quit taking my calls if I was always the voice of doom and gloom.

After going to my doctor, she felt I should get a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound.  It would be my first mammogram, not the circumstances I was hoping for.  After pretending to be made of rubber, I was taken in for the ultrasound.  The technician had to keep asking me where the lump was, which I took to be a good sign.  After a bit she said she thought she would just take a look around since she wasn't finding my lump area.  She didn't have to say a word when she passed a black hole that appeared to be the size of a silver dollar.  She took several pictures, then brought in a doctor to let him look at it. 

They let me get dressed and then both came back in the room.  The doctor explained my mammogram was clean and the lump I had found was nothing but an enlarged something or the other.  I wasn't really listening because I knew there was a "but".  Then he revealed there was a secondary finding and because they couldn't tell what it was, I would need to have a biopsy.

Biopsy.  One word with so much emotional power.  Kurt was in the waiting room.  When I walked up to him, he immediately started to question me, but I told him to wait until we got outside.  I was barely holding it together.  As soon as we left the building, I fell apart.  I couldn't believe it.  We went straight to my parents house so my father and Kurt could give me a priesthood blessing.  The same message was repeated over and over, trust the doctors.  After getting myself back together, I went to work.  I wrote the word "trust" on a 3x5 notecard and taped it to my desk.  When I felt my mind slipping to dark places, I looked at that card because trust wasn't just about my doctors, I needed to remind myself to trust in God and to let as much of the fear go as possible.

The days leading up to the biopsy were mostly normal with a dash of evening tears.  I just needed the emotional release each day.  Wednesday, the day before spring break, was biopsy day.  Kurt and I went back to the hospital and he had to sit in the waiting room again.  I can't say the biopsy was pleasant, but it wasn't horrible.  It was a little more involved than I thought and the recovery wasn't as simple as I figured it would be, but when it was done I did feel some relief.  Until Friday.  Friday afternoon was results day.  The big reveal if you will.  Friday was horrible. I can't explain the tricks my mind was playing. 

I thought about having to give a bad news diagnosis to my boys and my life would change forever and how treatment could affect my kidney.  I imagined how wonderful it would be to give good news and tried to cling to those thoughts.  Time ticked by.  No call.  I decided to give it to 3 pm and then I would call.  I did not want to wait the weekend.  3pm:  I called my doctor and....they were out of town.  I had to know so I called the doctor who performed the biopsy and luckily, he was there.  He looked up my results and give me the clean diagnosis.  Once again, I couldn't control the emotional release. Lots of women have biopsies, but for me, this moment was incredible.  I prayed in great gratitude and I thought about the many women who do not get good news and I cried for them.  I was reminded life is a gift and how significant that this was Easter weekend, the event that celebrates the life of the One who saved us all. 

Winter is easing.  Winter makes us stronger, shows us what we're made of.  I'm a better person because of winter, more empathetic, more at ease.  And I'm ready for spring.  Aren't we all.

Pass the Kleenex

Cough. Runny Nose.  Barf. Pain behind the eyeballs.  Breathing in Dust. Stuffy Nose. Fever. Fatigue.  Loss of appetite. The other end. Less smiles.  Less laughs.  Less notes. 

All around a brutal winter.  We want our healthy Coop back. 

Ontongeny and the Man Child

Hunter is in such a strange position in life.  He purports independence yet clings to playful opportunitites.  He stands at the fork of a road, not knowing where to take his next step.  I remember when he was a child, standing between my car and my parents house, sobbing because he couldn't decide whether to stay with Grandma & Grandpa, or come home with me.  This happened frequently and I was always perplexed by the situation. Yet, the past 7 months have found him in this same place.  I have been heartsick, wanting him to plant his feet, to take a stand, to commit. 


Today he did.  It was his choice, his decision and I had to let go of my immediate hopes for him and recognize the importance of this  moment.  He took a step down his path.  I could read it all over his face, the weight of this choice.  There will definitely be refining moments ahead as he works his way through boot camp and tech school, but those moments are necessary for growth.  My prayer for him is when the fire gets hot and the path gets lonely, he will turn to the one and only being who can bring peace and comfort to his soul, his Savior, Jesus Christ.

Hunter has so much to offer, so much to give. He will accomplish anything he sets his mind to.  This is his time to realize his potential, the potential I have seen all along. 

Not Guilt, Just Moments

For awhile I was feeling guilty about my sporadic blogging over the past 18 months or so.  Hmmm...what could be the cause of that?  Let's see, job loss, move with all of our stuff in storage, full time employment and masters classes, the rotating of house guests, move, unpack, and, of course, we are now repacking to move again.  I'm just going to relish the moments I get a chance to journal.

I wanted to make note of a sweet gesture by my little (12 now) Coops.  Yesterday was hard.  I'm not sure why, but I was feeling the weight of life's circumstances and reflecting on how I could have been a better mother.  It wasn't pretty and Cooper happened to come into my room in a moment of weakness to see me crying.  He crawled up on my bed and wrapped his arms around me.  He whispered in my ear, "I love you.  It will be okay."  Then he left.

About 10 minutes later I heard him yell, "Mom, come out, I'm ready".  I stepped out in to the hall to see a note at the end of the hall, on the floor, that read, "Dear Mom, I love you with all my heart.  I know tha tyou are going through a hard time, but we will help u get through it.  Follow these pictures to get ur prize!  love, Coops". 

I followed a trail of little colored pictures to a blanket fort where he jumped out and embraced me.  Those are the moments I need to remember, to have in reserve for the days that are difficult. How blessed am I?