2016: The Year of Firsts

Oh, 2016. 
I dub thee the year of firsts.

In order-ish:

First year of marriage.
First year of working with retired nuns - I needed a break from the hospital life and boy did I get one! 
First year of husband getting diagnosed with cancer.
First year of a lot of tears.
First year of radiation everyday for 5 weeks.
First year of being told we won't be able to have our own kids.
First year of surgery and hospital stay.
First year of getting a cancer-cat (a cat you get when you have cancer).
First year of truly experiencing what community means within the church - finding friends outside of the church that are part of THE church. 
First year of having in-laws live with us for a month and half and LOVING EVERY BIT OF IT EVEN THOUGH THEY DON'T BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY I LOVE IT, smh.
First year of $300,000 in medical expenses. Yes, that's why health insurance is so important AND there are people who cannot afford it. And yes, inserting a #healthcareissue here.
First year of husband becoming a sarcoma-cancer survivor, yay! - way to beat cancer's ass, babe!
First year of a Trump-ed presidency (don't be surprised, you know you saw that coming).
First year of officially turning old - 30 - and experiencing the "that didn't hurt before."


Oh, 2016. You were a roller coaster of emotions. 

We walked into it looking forward to celebrating our first year of marriage and thinking about changing jobs and moving. 
Instead a few months later we found ourselves putting life on hold. 
Feeling unstable. uncertain. 
Exhausted. emotionally drained. 

When we look back on the past year there are couple of things we both are blown away by:

1. The hub's workplace was INCREDIBLY supportive of him. I 
    didn't realize this but it is hugely helpful and makes life A LOT 
    less stressful when your work supports you and helps you in 
    anyway they can. My workplace was also very supportive. Within 
    a few weeks of being hired I told them the news and the answer I 
    got was, "just let us know when you want to come back." I mean, 
    seriously. That's a big deal.

2. After his diagnosis in April '16, we felt very alone though we 
    talked/skyped/face-timed with family and friends. Every 
    month after his diagnosis and sometimes multiple times per  
    month we had our people stay with us. We didn't know it at the  
    time but it meant the world to both of us. We know these folks 
    could have done something else with their time and expenses but 
    they decided to travel and be with us knowing we wouldn't be 
    doing much.
   
We seemed to handle the year of firsts with calmness. 
And we know that that calmness comes from our faith. 
We both have a heavy past and have experienced the love, faithfulness and provision of our God.

So regardless of what life may bring us we know God is with us. Always walking beside us,
 In our lowest. 
 In our highest. 
 In our doubting. 
 And in our certainty.


P.S. I just realized after posting this that what happened to us in 2016 deserves to be in 2016, #twasashittyyear

The "C" word ("Cancer"...because why hold you in suspense?)

A couple of months ago my husband and I found out he had cancer.

We had been married for only 5 months. Not to mention him being so young. He said at one time, "Just the other day I was thinking to myself, 'I'm going to turn 30. I'm so old.' And now today I'm thinking, 'I'm going to turn 30. I'm so young.'" 

It's been a couple of months since we found out and we're doing ok. 

Do you know what the worst part of it was? WAITING. 

We walked around for 23 days not knowing the answer. Did he have cancer? Did he not have cancer? Those two questions repeated in our minds over and over again for 23 days. 

Feeling numb and like my heart was going to implode from all of the pain and worry I was feeling for someone I loved so much. 

I think about those I've known who have walked this path before. Those who are in the waiting period. Those who are walking it now. One doesn't truly know #allthefeels until you are walking through it yourself or with someone you love. I mean, I'm a nurse and do you know how many cancer patients I have taken care of but didn't really understand their emotions, grieving process and worries? A lot. 

It has changed my perspective about life and people. It has changed me as a whole person - in the way I think about life; those closest to me; and those I come in contact with. To be gentler. Kinder. More understanding.

I walk around and interact with people and think "You have no clue what I'm going through. And I have no clue what you are going through." Can we just give each other some grace? Actually, A LOT of grace? Thanks. Ok, end soap box.

It's hard. I remember I couldn't sleep. I was restless. I didn't want to be happy. I didn't want to socialize with anyone. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to throw things. I wanted to cuss like a sailor in different accents (and I did and sometimes I still do). 

It's funny because while I was feeling these things - the one who does NOT have cancer, mind you - the hubs was calm, cool and collected. He joked that he was going to start a blog called, "My Cancer Wife - who doesn't have cancer."  

Laughter. One of the things we appreciate about each other is our sense of humor. It's a balm to our souls. A coping mechanism. A very welcomed coping mechanism.

I went back to read my journal and the things I wrote about the last couple of months:

One of the doctors was optimistic it wouldn't be cancer. ('Optimistic' was his word).

Begging through prayer it would not be cancer.

Getting the results of the MRI and at the very end, "consider sarcoma as primary consideration."

Consult with a radiation oncologist for biopsy.

Waiting for results.

A community of friends and faith-filled people being built around us. Praying with us, for us. 

Taking days to cry. To hold each other. 

Praying for peace and the faith to trust in God. 

Getting a PET scan.

God fulfilling us with peace and faith through all of this.

Getting the phone call telling us it was cancer.

I remember reading this a few days after,

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good..."

(I've literally read that hundreds of times. This time its meaning was so significant to me).

And writing,

"ALL THINGS WORK TOGETHER FOR GOOD. It may not be good (the thing itself: cancer) but God, You can work it into something good." 

We both attest to the good things that have happened. 

To big things such as him finding out he had small nodules in his lungs but the cancer had not metastasized and those nodules were tiny and common and benign. 

To the small things like getting avocados for 88 cents per pound at Walmart because they didn't put up the right sign (we got like 8 avocados for like $3...and we love our avocados). 

Both of those happened in the same day #justsayin

And we both attest to the bad things that have happened. Side effects of radiation to the skin. The unfairness of him being so young and healthy and this popping up out of nowhere (from somewhere but for now, from nowhere). One thing that is personal to us and I choose not to share at this time. 

Sometimes we choose joy. Sometimes we choose sadness. Sometimes we choose laughter. Sometimes we choose bitterness. Sometimes we choose peace. Sometimes we choose anger. And we both agree it's ok. It's ok for us to process our emotions as long as it is not destructive to ourselves or to each other or to others.

And it's ok for us to feel as though God is not perfect in all of His ways and for us because it's part of the grieving process. I know He will give me the faith to believe those things. But for the moment it's ok. 

All of this could change in an instant. 

For better or for worse. 

One thing I know for sure is that I have an incredible man to go through with all of this. 

I once wrote this about a man I could possibly dream of:

Honest about his struggles; in love with God; kind; gentle; smart; funny; a lover not a fighter; peacemaker; loves mom and her food along with Moe (my dog nephew) and sister....now that I'm writing this out I don't think he loves Moe...; didn't judge; quick to listen, slow to anger; willingness to change. 

My heart is so filled with overwhelming affection for my husband. A man filled with grace and strength.