breast cancer 101

Cath on Cancer.

Yep.

I'm muddling my way through. Doctors appointments, chemotherapy, packing school lunches, reading bedtime stories and brushing teeth while I battle the inner demons that want to take up residence.

These writings are just me, all raw, on cancer.

I've been writing for my littles. For what my words might mean as they grow. For how my words, my heart might meet them in the years, decades after I go. And my writing is here as a bit of a peek into this insane, unwelcome, bumpy ride. How a heart can cling to Jesus with a torrent of cancer flung into the mix. 

I guess that's why I let Huz convince me to make this little blog public. Im writing for my boys, but if you're brave enough to take a peek, then do. 

I'd like that.

Maybe my boys will read this one day. Maybe they won't want to. But it'll be here for them. 

This is me on paper. Cath on Cancer. Just thoughts on how it is.

xx

the weary world rejoices

In the dribs and drabs of noticing how my heart is tracking along, I am mostly all sadness for my Huz and littles today and can't think straight, can't keep functioning externally while I self combust internally all morning, all afternoon and evening too.

The gnawing of 'all is not right', the constant nag of the cancers pain in my right pelvis, my lower back, it screams out for my attention.

Just like Christmas.

Just like all the cooking, preparation and present wrapping.

And it's too close to my thoughts, too near to each moment festively hanging lights, re-jigging my Christmas tree decorations and stealing a secret slice of Christmas cake. Death is too near to this Jesus birth, this new life, new baby, weary world rejoicing, for me to get comfortable.

Have I lived the moments wide eyed enough? Have I slowed down enough, (but not too much) so as to capture the hearts of my tribe as we go through advent? 

For the first time we have been tracking through advent with Ann Voskamp's 'Unwrapping the Greatest Gift'. Life changing. A chance to stop every morning and get our hearts ready to be glad in the deepest place that Jesus came, and that nothing will ever be 'very wrong' again. I drink the words, the life-giving (or in my case life-saving) truths spelt out in beats that I can keep up with, droplets of truth that are threatening to change me from the inside out. 

Droplets that won't let me stay thinking that maybe God has forgotten me.

Droplets that taste of God's goodness, of His unthinkable sacrifice, His deepest love for little me.

Yet in my morbid way I found myself crying over my orange juice tonight at photos of my boys, these three wonders, that will in time no longer have me all warm and in the flesh to love them new each day. The photos taken, video recorded, memories etched in small minds will have to be enough. But how can they be enough. None of it is the good story I imagined over and over as I nursed True. That season when my world plodded along all cozy and right, and the biggest problem was how long he napped in the day for and which playgroup to attend.

Yes. I've lived those days. Not all my days have had a ticking clock in the background, the endless swallowing of heaped pills morning and night. Not all my days have been achingly lonely because how can I ever ever explain or articulate the endlessness of having to say goodbye when all I want is to stay.

On the day that will be my last on this earth, it will be well with my soul if I have lived this life the best I can. Not in that 'striving to get it all done/freaking out over not getting it all done way', but the knowing that I know that I know I loved with all I am, gave with all my heart, treasured and nurtured my four boys, my three littles with my whole self, and gave my heart daily, hourly to love big my Huz. All in the name of Jesus. Without whom I would have self combusted a few years back.

I can't fathom walking this yuck of cancer without His presence in the deep places.

Just needing You to help me do it Jesus. So glad you never leave me. Please remind my tired heart tonight that Your good is better than my imagined plans that seem better.

bali & cancer

I've found that the longer I live with cancer, the more spontaneous, 'seize the day' I become. 

Planning for holidays has never been my strong suit. I tend to be pretty happy at home. I'm such a homebody. Love my creature comforts and pottering about my own place. But cancer has definitely changed my 'it can wait' perspective on getting away. I've got to fit a lifetime of holidays into a few short years! Can it be done? Well I'm giving it a pretty good go!

The more I think about how great I'm feeling on this drug combo of 'Vanilla Bean' and Xeloda the more I don't want to take my chances waiting to do the things I've always wanted to do.

So.

Getting away with Huz is one of my favourites. He and I travel so well together. We love relaxing and taking it all in, and he's such great company. I love to do holidays with him.

Six nights away with Huz at a luxury villa was so good for my soul. Bali was the perfect spot.

Beyond grateful to our parents for looking after the littles so we could whisk off. It was a pretty big ask, and we timed our trip while school was still on so that our parents wouldn't have to entertain all three all day every day that we were away. It's a huge ask though. Such love showered on us from all four of them to set aside plans to love on the boys for us.

And a trip to Bali with Huz? A definite cancer perk!

Do we look fit to be parents? 

That's better. Think we'd fool them now.

There were so many highlights on this trip. Swimming, eating divine seafood, our amazing four poster canopy bed, shopping in the markets, watching beautiful sunsets, reading amazing books, long conversations and beautiful silences, daily massages and coffee in the rainforest.

Very memorable and so very life-giving. Living each moment well was a privilege. 

Lots of smiles in these photos, which was easy because there was so much to smile over and marvel at.

But by the final night as we watched the amazing Bali sunset my hearts ache was for my littles. I am so tied to these three boys of mine, and truly 6 nights away was my utter limit for missing those squeezable cheeks, cheeky, toothy smiles and tight cuddles.

Huz will tell you I was a mass of tears for most of the final evening. Induced mostly by the desperate realisation that someday soon my separation from the boys will be final and one that a quick plane trip home won't remedy. 

Me in my forever home, that place of no more tears, but my precious 4 boys with that homesickness for me that will remain until they join me.

And the thought of that had me crying into Huz's shoulder even while Balinese singers gathered round our table on the beach to serenade us.

Oh my breaking heart. It just breaks a little more at the most unexpected times, leaving me spinning.

This long goodbye. The one I want with all my soul to be beautiful, and life giving to my True, Brave and Soul. And my Huz. How am I so blessed that he would love me and choose me, and still choose me everyday in this muck of cancer. 

And that's how we did Bali with cancer. I swallowed pills morning and night, and the rest of the time we ate, drank and were merry. 

And aside from being referred to as 'sir' once or twice, courtesy of my super short do', most of the time I think we had Bali fooled! 

Just another couple on our 'honeymoon' as far as they were concerned. And that was the best feeling of all! A true break from being a patient. Just what the doctor ordered!