Sarah Denman

After having my port for over a year, the surgeon will remove it on Friday, the 10th of July! It is a fairly simple outpatient procedure, and less intrusive than when they put it in.

Whoo-hoo! I am beyond GLAD to be rid of this thing! It has been a hateful symbol of sickness, and I am grateful to be rid of it.

Towards the end of the month, I will meet with Oncology for labs and my three month check up.

Then, on July 28th, I am scheduled for breast reconstruction surgery. There have been many tears as we have wrestled through the decision to do this. The DIEP FLAP is expected to be a seven+hours long procedure, during which they will remove my belly fat and attach it to my chest wall, forming a breast out of my own fat and tissue. This surgery is nothing like your typical augmentation, as I no longer have any breast tissue to work with. They have to start from scratch. I won’t go into full details here, but you are welcome to read more about it, if you are interested.

Recovery for this procedure is expected to spread out over an eight week period. Initially, I will spend up to five days in the hospital.

Prior to my diagnosis of cancer, I had no inkling of all the different types of cancer, the countless possible side effects, treatments and what it meant to actually lose a breast. To each woman, the result of this will be drastically different, because there are too many variants that affect the outcome. How I thought I would respond to this, has not been how I actually did respond.

Cancer, and in general, most diseases do not follow some rulebook. We are are each uniquely made; the way our body, and our hearts react to something gone amiss in our body will always play out differently. James likes to say that it is a Science, until it goes into your body, then it turns into an Art. The results are always going to be different when you are dealing with the human element.

To say that it has been tough, is an understatement. I won’t get into all the whys on here, not now. I am still processing much of this. My heart is heavy. I want the restoration the surgery brings, but I do not want to go through with it. I am dreading the recovery, and what that will entail. There is no easy choice here. Really, I just wish I wasn’t facing this decision. If I could, I would choose not be here.

The number of hard decisions we’ve had to made at every fork of this wretched cancer journey have been staggering, overwhelming, and heartbreaking. I am grateful for the freedom of choice, but this has not come easily, or without heartache. There is a cost to each decision. There is never an exact right answer. Sickness, disease just totally stinks. Regardless of what you think, there is not a clearly defined path to follow out of it.

We will continue to pray, to ask for guidance; He will make our paths straight as we trust in his continued provision and wisdom. We appreciate your prayers in this regard, as well.

My sweet boy turned ten on the tenth, which also happened to be Mother’s Day. How he grew so fast is beyond my understanding. I can still remember holding him for the first time, as if it was yesterday!

He is my favorite boy (don’t tell Daddy!), and I cannot imagine how boring our life would be without him. He is full of life and just a ton of fun. He has these big blue eyes with sweet dimples and a grin that will steal your heart, if you don’t watch it! I have countless memories with him. He is all boy; he has an adventurous, daring heart that has scared me a time or two, but he also has a soft side that continually blesses us. We are grateful the Lord gave him to our family!

For his birthday weekend, he and James went camping at one of the local camp grounds. They stayed up until almost midnight fishing! They continually dined on yummy dewberries, which were in abundant supply near the water’s edge. They returned home happy, exhausted, and really dirty! They were full of tales, and decided they should do this every year!

Our Mother’s Day was relatively quiet. The girls made a special breakfast, went swimming and James cooked up a special fish dinner for the birthday boy. I am really thankful to be a mama to these three precious munchkins.

 

Although, I will continue meeting with my Oncologist every three months, I am officially done with my Herceptin infusions!! This is such a relief after a solid year of treatments.

My Physical Therapist released me to continue working at home, deeming me “functionally normal” with room for improvement. Although I know I still have some hard work ahead of me, I am relieved to have that appointment off the books. Unless I have complications with surgery, I should not need to see her again.

These are huge hurdles, we are so glad to be done with that phase.

I’ve enjoyed these last few weeks with fewer doctor appointments. I actually had a solid 10 days with no appointments on the calendar. That felt a little weird, but was cushioned by so much relief and freedom to spend my time and energy elsewhere, mostly in resting and spending time with my family. It is nice not having to plan life around doctor appointments.

I am eager to get back to my “normal” life. It is easy to slip back into old habits. It has been a rude reality check not to bounce back to full capacity. I’ve unearthed some unrealistic expectations.

Subconsciously, I assumed that being done with treatment meant I would resume normal duties. I have had some rough days of reckoning, of sorting through unmet expectations and Truth. It’s easy to expect to feel bad when you are undergoing treatment, everyone expects that. It is the lingering after effects of treatment that I was not prepared for. As it turns out, rebuilding from treatment is almost as big a deal as treatment.

I recently re-read the scripture the Lord laid on my heart when I was first diagnosed, and my eyes settled on these verses,

“I pursued my enemies and overtook them; I did not turn back till they were destroyed. I crushed them so that they could not rise: they fell beneath my feet. You armed me with strength for battle; you made my adversaries bow at my feet. You made my enemies turn their backs in flight, and I destroyed my foes.” Psalms 18:37-40

Bam! Take that, cancer.

This road has been long, but the Lord has been with me every step of the way. He has promised to mend me, to make my body whole. I will continue holding on to that hope.

Ann Voskamp says, “Life is not an emergency, it is a gift.”

Even after all I’ve been through, I still forget how precious each and every moment is. How about you? Are you so weighed down in the dailiness of living that you forget to soak up His blessings, to relish the time He’s given you? As I adjust my expectations, I find a shift in my perspective helps me to be grateful. Or, perhaps, it is in the remembering to be grateful that my perspective shifts?

Life is a gift.

I am not sure if having cancer automatically opens you up to recognizing others with cancer, like when you buy a new car and all of a sudden you see the same model everywhere, but we continue to grieve each time we learn of a new cancer patient, which seems to happen frequently.

What advice would we give to someone newly diagnosed with cancer?

This is a tough question to answer. We’ve accumulated a wealth of information concerning diet, supplements, rest, exercise, doctors, medicines, and various treatment options. My mind quickly sifts through all the different possibilities and settles firmly on….hope.

I am confident that above all the possible advice I could offer, hope is most important. Sure, I could share all the various things that helped me, but without hope they are useless. Those who know we well, know that I have a passion for maintaining a healthy lifestyle, and I am typically eager (some would say too eager) to share this passion. I’ve learned a lot this past year, and I know more about cancer than I ever wanted to know. I would actually like to forget most of it. With chemo brain, this could be possible!

But hope, hope is more life giving than any wellness tip I could share with you.

Most of you know how desperately I have grappled to gain control of and fix my situation. I’ve followed a strict diet and sought the advice of well-respected medical and health professionals. Only to learn that there was more that I could or should be doing. The amount of “health” advice available is overwhelming. There isn’t a clear-cut plan we can follow to become well. Each person is unique with countless variables to consider.

Before cancer, I was considered healthy. Even since receiving a cancer diagnoses, doctors have repeatedly commented on how healthy I am. This has baffled me, how can anyone tell a cancer patient she’s healthy?

Perhaps it is because by most other standards, I am healthy. Upon examination, I’m not overweight, my blood pressure and other labs are always in the normal range. I’ve never taken regularly prescribed medications, and I’ve never had any major disease.

Cancer is this mysterious disease that indicates something has gone seriously awry in your body. No one understands it, even those who claim they do; it wreaks havoc and can tear an otherwise healthy person’s body to shreds. The disease that doesn’t follow any rules or respect any person regardless of their race, political affiliation, religion or wealth. It is non-particular and evidently random in choosing its victims. I hate cancer. Seriously. Hate it. Loathe it. For that matter, I hate all disease. They’re evil.

Being given any serious, life threatening diagnoses, whether it be cancer or some other disease, can knock even a strong, healthy person down. And if you’re expecting a fair fight, you’re in for a big surprise, because they do not play by the rules. In traditional boxing, when you’ve been knocked down, you can tap out. Not so when you are afflicted with a disease. They’re out to get you, to beat you to a bloody pulp and then some.

I suppose I am really talking about the enemy here. The enemy isn’t the cancer or any particular diagnoses. The enemy is the devil. He is the one who’s taken off the gloves and doesn’t play by the rules. He is underhanded, sneaky and will do whatever he can to lay you low, steal your hope and leave you lifeless.

What is the antidote to this unfair play? What do we have to hold on to in this fallen, wretched world that is riddled with disease and hardships unbearable?

Hope.

I cannot even pretend to have it all figured out, but I know Hope. I know it is there because it has stretched out its hand to me when I have been beaten to a pulp. It has offered me a glimpse of something better. It has given me something to hold on to.

There have been times when I have teetered on the edge of despair, hanging on by a mere thread. Emotions can get really raw when you’re under attack. I’ve stared down some very bleak landscapes and have been given countless reasons to give up.

Satan makes it hard to see hope, he likes to weigh you down in a ruthless attempt to keep you hunched over under an unbearable weight. ‘The god of this age had blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.’ I Corinthians 4:4

Ah, but hope.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

Jesus is the healing balm, He is my rest, my sustainer. Hope is Jesus. I need Jesus.

He has carried me, continues to carry me. Because of this I can walk another step, go another day.

He tells us over and over in the Bible, “Do not be afraid.” He is with me. He is with you. He is in today and he will carry the weight.

I want hope. I’ve had a taste of it and know it is good and wonderful, and I want more. I want Him.

To those of you who may be facing your own unfair battle, I encourage you to grab hold of Jesus and do not let go. He is the Life sustainer and giver. Whatever you are up against, He is Life and He offers Hope to you freely.

‘Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set out hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many. I Corinthians 1:9-11

Several of you have inquired about my diet. It has taken a while for my appetite to return. As it comes back, I find myself really grateful to enjoy food again. To be able to actually taste food is delightful. I hope to never take that for granted again.

I know that diet has a huge impact on one’s health. I have many testimonies showing this to be true. However, I am learning that receiving in thankfulness is even more important. I have come to accept (for the most part) that not I, nor my diet, caused cancer. I still struggle with wanting to know why I got cancer. There is no known rhyme or reason for it.

Cancer is evil and seems to be non-partial in choosing its victims.

All that to say, I am still eating healthy, but in a relaxed manner. I can tell a huge difference in how I feel when I am eating a diet full of vegetables and good proteins. This alone is a good motivator, and I aim to eat well. But I am also refusing to put my trust in the foods I eat. I feel a new freedom being given to me. Basically, I am going to be thankful for the foods He provides. I am practicing being grateful and thankful for nourishment and will let God sustain me.

Once again, it ties back into relying on His daily provision. He continues to provide what is needed, as it is needed. It is when I start fretting, that things go awry. It is then that I experience the most frustration. Thankfully, he is patient and kind in drawing me back to relying on Him.

His grace is sufficient.

*For everything God is created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving because it is consecrated by the word of God and prayer. 1 Timothy 4:5

Last Tuesday, I met with my Oncologist. It was an encouraging visit. My type of breast cancer has one of the best prognoses. He told us that if I can make it past the two year mark, the chances of it coming back are very unlikely.

Currently, I am seeing a Physical Therapist who specializes in Breast Cancer patients. She has been working with me to regain range of motion in my left arm. At times, this process has seemed agonizingly slow, but she has assured me we are making improvements at a swift rate.

I have recently developed Axillary Web Syndrome, AKA, “Cording”. It is believed to be a common side effect from surgery with lymph node removal. It can traumatize the connective tissues, which can lead to hardening of the fibers that make up the bundles of tissue, causing ‘cords’ to form. While this is a painful side effect, my therapist is confident that we caught it early and with additional therapy (bleh), we should be able to resolve it. I am already seeing improvement.

Not only do I finish the last of my Herceptin infusions in April, I will also meet with the surgeon to discuss the next surgery options and dates. I expect to have surgery sometime in June. The recovery time is expected to be six to eight weeks. I am both dreading this next step but also anxious to be done with it.

I am glad to report my hair is growing back. It has worked as an external guide to measure internal healing. It’s slow, but steady.

Many of the obvious side effects are fading away. I am grateful each time I realize one is no longer an issue.

Although I am seeing improvement in this, one side effect that has been more reluctant to release its grip on me is fatigue. It has been an almost constant companion for way too long. I have become adept at managing it, and I am trying to find a new normal. It is really hard to know what to expect at this stage. My hope is that it will release me completely and I will be fully restored. We are confident He will fully mend my body. In the meantime, I am being forced to learn (again), to be gracious with myself and with accepting help from others. I am grateful for every bit of growth and restoration, and I am encouraged with every increase in my activity levels. Sam has joyfully observed, “Mom! You’re coming back!”

My kids continue to be my cheerleaders. They’ve faithfully rejoiced with me in each new victory as I mend. They’ve encouraged me to push through my hurdles and celebrate with me for each obstacle overcome. I am so proud of them and so grateful to have them on my team!