Gratitude

October 29, 2012

I am greatful to be alive!

I am greatful I get to talk to my kids every day and see Nick and Mickaela.

I am greatful my husband puts up with my mood swings.

I am greatful that I have wonderful friends who think of me as family.

I am greatful that I have love to give and there are people who love me.

I am going to go the whole day without drinking a pop!

I may feel overweight, but I am going to research recipes to eat healthy.

Hope and Pink

Shades of pink, stages of breast cancer

Pink scrubs, pink scrub caps, pink blankets, pink pens, pink shoelaces,

Lighter the shade, earlier the stage

Complete response, what’s that?

Pink, Positive, Prognosis, Pathology, Phase, Prosthyses,

Funny how the letter P has entangled its way into our lives

Hope. Do we see a color or an image?

Hope. A feeling not an emotion; an adjective, not a verb.

Your life now in the hands of doctors, medicine’s, surgeons

Your new normal now.

Suicidal drive

There have been some pretty low points in my journey this past year. One of which was when my  husband came back to take me to some appointments. I dug my heels into the ground and I wasn't having anything to do with it. All I wanted to focus on was why he was coming home. Did he want our marriage to work? Was he coming home for me? Was he coming home because he loved me? Or was he simply coming home out of guiilt. I had no idea.
I don't really know why I focussed so much on that though. I should have been elated he was going to hold my hand and be there for me. I should have realized he came home because he loved me. The reasons really shouldn't have mattered. But they did.
I was so angry, but not at him. I couldn't pick a fight with this disease, but I could pick a fight with him. My anxiety was completely heightened and I did not want to go to Kansas City or to my appointments. I was scared and nervous, but mostly I just wanted to pretend none of this was happening to me and that life was normal. But it wasn't and this was my new normal now.
I'll never forget the drive there. I really tried to stay calm, but there was something pulling me away from my husband.
"Turn the car around," I screamed at him.
"No, we are going and you are going to Kansas City." he said.
"Why do you care if I live or die?" I asked.
He just kept driving as if nothing had happened. That made me more furious with him.
I could feel myself getting more angry. I felt trapped. I felt trapped inside the car, inside my thoughts, and inside my  mind. I just wanted to open the door and end it all. I suppose that was my lowest point.
God is there for us. I had these thoughts and in the middle of everything, my pastor calls me from my church. I couldn't believe he chose this time to call. Maybe God was interfering to prevent me from doing something harmful to myself. Maybe God was trying to get me to see that there were people out there who were honest and loving and who truly cared about me even though there wasn't anything in it for them.
"Is there anyting I can do for you?" Pastor Mark asked.
Like many of us I switched to my phone voice. I didn't want him to see how hurt and angry I was. I couldn't allow myself to break down now in front of a perfect stranger.
"No, I'm okay." I said.
"If you need anything, please call." he said.
He already gave me what I needed at the time. I calmed down and allowed my husband to take me the rest of the way to Kansas City.

Marriage and other people

Every day Becky tried to turn me against my husband. Stupidly, I would tell her things from my perception of course. Sometimes it was true and sometimes it wasn't true or I left things out. At first she acted as though she wanted my husband and I to work on our marriage.
"Would you talk to him for me? I just think he'd listen to you before he'd listen to me." I said.
She in fact agreed to speak with him, and came over the next day to tell me how it went. And, so it began. I'm not going to dredge up what he said on the phone because frankly, I doubt it was true.
Because he left, the big issue was the house. My dad and Becky believed the title should be in both our names, not just his. My husband felt differently though. His name was solely on the mortgage and he wasn't going to add my name. To this day, I still don't understand why, but I do get it to a point. I think if we had been in a better emotinal place and trusting place, he would have added my name to the title of the house. He also knew my family history with my dad and mom and he simply didn't want to put himself in a position that could hurt him. I get that.
My biggest mistake was letting too many people interfere in my marriage. I became that 15 year old girl that ran away from home because I was getting abused. I became the little girl that couldn't think for myself or make any decisions because I allowed people to take over my life.
Don't get me wrong, I needed help. I didn't have much self-confidence to begin with, but they contributed to it even more.
Every day Becky would come over and tell me what a lousy husband he is. The reason he wasn't acting lovingly toward me is because I would call him every day and pick a fight with him over whatever Becky or my dad put in my head that day. I didnt' want to divorce my husband. I wanted to work it out. I loved him after all.
I was facing a life threatening illness and all anyone seemed to focus on was my relationship with him. Becky went as far as trying to convince me that I was a battered wife. She preyed on my vulnerability.
"We've seen the bruises Leslie, we know what's going on." She said.
Well, as I explained to her the bruises on my arms and legs were because of an immune deffinciency. Before my first round of chemo, I found out I had low platelets. The doctors ran tests and found out that I had Grave's disease as well.
"My mother went through the same thing. My father was a raging alcoholic and he wasn't the kindest man." She said. "I just wish she would have left him."
I sat and listened, but that wasn't the case with me. My husband never layed a hand on me. Did we fight? Yes. Did he yell? Yes. Did he knock the cabinet door off the hinge because he was angry and hit his head on the corner of it? Yes. But that doesn't make him an abusive husband.
Day after day I fought with him. Combined with the lack of sleep, no wonder we weren't getting along. Our problems didn't come from him though. I can't explain why I couldn't trust in him because it was certainly nothing he ever did.
A lot of my misstrust in my husband was because I didn't trust or love myself. I didn't feel worthy of love. Because I wouldn't let him take care of our family, it caused huge problems for us.

I wasn't in the best frame of mind before I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had struggled with depression and mood swings throughout my life. My mother was diagnosed with bi-polar and my family was convinced I had bi-polar also. All I cared about though was the fact that I wasn't happy in my life. I was irritable and lazy. I didn't keep house very well and I was unhappy in my marriage.
The unhappiness in my marriage was my fault though. Everyone says it takes two to break down a marriage, but that's simply not true. Sometimes it can only take one person. Granted, people make choices every day, but people's choices are guided by other people's actions. This was certainly the case in my marriage. I took our marriage for granted.
My husband was my saving grace in the beginning and the years to follow. All he wanted was to be a good man, have a family, and be able to support his family. But I took that away from him.
My husband worked overnights at the post office and I was so jealous of the post office because it was taking time away from me and my children. I hated it. My husband was sleep deprived, which was my fault because I became so dependant and so needy of him that I wouldn't let him have uniterrupted sleep. Because of that, he got ill and he wasn't taking care of himself the way he should be. Our finances went to hell because I spent more than we had.
He tried to guide me and be kind to me, but that didn't work. The only thing that worked was when he would yell at me. And the funny thing was, when he yelled at me, I was the calm one. I wouldn't give into his anger. I guess now, the reason I didn't give into his anger was a way for me to control the situation. I couldn't show him how it really affected me. I had to be cold in order to survive. After all, that's how I survived my mothe when she would yell at me. I just simply shut down.
After years of my husband trying to survive me, he decided this wasn't healthy for our children. He was right. Something had to change. So he packed up the kids and left.
He had been going back and forth to Texas because his sister was on her death bed. I thought it was good for the little ones to be around to provide comfort and smiles to his family so of course I had no problem with them going. I was actually looking forward to the break.
Upon his return, he was childless. He came into the house without the kids to confront me on what he was planning to do, or rather already done. As you might imagine, I was furious. I was hurt and angry. Even though I knew this was my fault, I wasn't ready to admit that to him or myself. I wasn't ready to admit that I had driven him away. But that's exactly what I did. The man who I thought would never leave, left.
He never did say we were getting a divorce or that he wanted one. He just wanted me to get help and "fix" myself and then maybe we could fix our marriage. He just wanted for me to work with him and not sabatoge everything he tried to do. If he had a solution to a problem he wanted me to accept his solution to work. And if I had a solution to a problem we would try mine. But my solutions always failed. I had to have complete control and I refused to give that up. I refused to let him in and protect and support our family. Now, our family is all over the place and I have cancer, and I'm all alone.

I had never had anyone like Becky and Roger in my life before. They were the kind of friends I dreamed of having. I had even started attending their church which I fell in love with. The first time I went, I thought the pastor's sermon was aimed directly toward me. I fell in love with the idea of being part of this community. These people actually cared about me and my well-being.
I am so angry at myself. I trusted in God and asked Him for his guidance and my faith has been forevermore shaken at best. How could he do this to me?
I understand God gave us free will, but what about the concept of guardian angels? Aren't they suppose to protect us and help us see the light?
I began to confide my deepest, darkest secrets to Becky. And I thought she was really listening to me and trying to help me work through this. I thought she was building me up and building up my self-confidence. In some instances, she did do that.
While she was trying to protect my children from my sister, she was also trying to protect them from my ex-husband. Now, Manning isn't the perfect father, but none of us are perfect parents. We all have our hidden flaws. The one constant though is that he loves his kids and has always been a part of their life. He would come pick them up three out of four weekends a month. She tried to convince me of all the horrible things my ex-husband and his parents were saying to the kids and told me she was writing all of this down for documentation purposes.
" What do you mean for documentation?" I asked.
"I can't prove him and unfit parent, even if I wanted to."
"Leslie, he's neglectful." Becky said. "He could have taken the kids to the dentist, or taken them to the doctor. You've been sick for a long time and didn't know it. He knew better. He doesn't care about them. Mickaela was so happy about her 100 percent on her spelling test, and he just shrugged it off." Becky said.
"He told me that if you die, he was planning on sending Mickaela to your sister's to live." she said.
That really rubbed me the wrong way. The last thing I wanted was to have my kids split up. I just couldn't believe my ex-husband and my sister were discussing my impeding death and what would happen.
I was so hurt by all of this. So when Becky told me what she and Roger were going to do I didn't say anything to them. Again, something I'm not proud of. I thought my children were being mentally abused though. They need all the love and support they could get, and I was led to believe they weren't getting it from their dad or their grandparents.

I have to do the work to get through this. If I don't I will have not accomplished anything. I'm not sure what it is I want to accomplish, but I need to work through this, whatever it is. The next part of this story is tough for me to put into words.
Once the initial shock wore off of what the doctors had told me and what my sister had done to me I went into attack mode. Well, I didn't go into attack mode, but Becky did for me.
Becky knew I was in a vulnerable place, and I was. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I didn't feel that I had any family I could really count on to be there for me so I allowed myself to trust her.
Becky offered for her and her husband to take care of my children for me until I could do it. I knew what I was about to undergo and I was scared. I was mostly scared of my children watching me on a daily basis go through this and I wanted to spare them that pain. I couldn't handle their tears and I couldn't tell them everything was going to be okay, because I wasn't sure of that myself. I couldn't even tell them I had cancer. I could no longer protect them. I knew they would be better off with Becky and Roger at the time. They were respected in the community and I trusted them. I knew they would take good care of my kids.Little did I know what was to come.
Becky was a fierce protector. A 44 year old woman from Texas she was a mother bear. She was devoted to her daughter, her marriage, but most of all her church. She was involved in every aspect of First Covenant, from the board to hosting a life class, to bible study, you get the picture.

The next day..

The drive back to my aunt's house was awful. I didn't want to face anyone with this news least of all my family. I was suppose to go home that day, but I knew I couldn't. After I gave myself permission to break down, I gave my aunt permission to tell the family. I just couldn't do it especially my husband. He had just lost his sister to breast cancer in June, and here we were in September and he has to find out that his wife had breast cancer also. Granted, we were seperated but I guesss in the back of my mind I hoped he would come back to me and love me. I knew having cancer wasn't going to fix all of our problems with our marriage, but I just thought for a little while they wouldn't be so important.
I was able to finally fall asleep and make the drive back home the next day. I wasn't really looking forward to that either. My sister had been staying with my two older children Nicholas and Mickaela. When I arrived home, the house was spotless. SHe had done an amazing job of cleaning the refrigerator, and spring cleaning, even though it was fall, the rest of the house. It wasn't messy, but it was definitely cluttered and needed a good deep clean.
At first, I was okay with her helping. I knew she meant well, and let's be honest I needed the help. I had been depressed after my husband left, and finally started to feel good about things again, and then I get hit with stage IV breast cancer.
Anyone on the outside looking in, you would think she was the parent and I was the child. I managed to put my frustrations with her on hold for the time being. The first day being back home wasn't that big of deal. When I told her about the cancer, she just acted like she always did and business as usual.
The kids were off to school and she attempted to clean again. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before so I decided to take a nap. I went back to my room and curled up in my comforter. But I couldn't sleep, all I heard was the banging in the bathroom.
You'd think the fact that she was going to school to become a nurse, she'd understand that I needed the rest. That I had just had two biopsies done and I was exhausted.
"Do you think you could do something else?" I asked her.
She just ignored me. I finally decided I wasn't going to get any rest so I sat in my chair and tried to watch some tv. I was suppose to take it easy and not do any cleaning or lifting because of the bipsy and the clips. Again, you'd think she'd understand that. But no, she got irritated with me because I wasn't doing anything.
Later that day it was time take my son to football practice. He was getting his things together and couldn't find his cup. Nancy was out playing volleyball with Mickaela, and I hollard at her if she knew where it was at. She just ignored me, which in turn made me very angry. One thing led to another and we ended up in a huge fight. She threatened to call Social Rehabilitation Services on me, and I told her to go ahead.
I took Nick to his football practice and when I returned she was standing across the street talking to my neighbor. I found that suspicious, but didn't really think anything of it. She packed up her stuff and left, which was fine with me because I really couldn't handle her attitude anymore.
The next day my neighbor comes over and wants me to go with her to my neighbor's house to the right of me. I didn't really know what to think, but I went ahead anyhow.
"Leslie, I'm so sorry. I should have believed you." Becky said.
"What are you talking about?" I asked. Becky pulled out her phone and started to show me the texts that my sister had sent her.
"Leslie, I'm the one that gave her the number to SRS." Becky said.
"We are so sorry we believed her. We thought the kids were in trouble," Emily said.
I honestly didn't care that my sister had called SRS on me. I didn't have anything to hide.
I was okay with Becky and Emily because I know they felt remorseful for their mistake. They were my friends and I felt that I could trust them.

I'll never forget the day I found out I had breast cancer. I knew I had a lump and had put off going to the doctor on purpose. I feared what she was going to say. I had, had lumps in the past and they turned out begnin, but something about this one was different. I knew better than to ignore this because of my family history. My grandmother had breast cancer, my mother had, had it at an early age and died of ovarian cancer, and at the time this all happened my sister-in-law was dying of triple negative breast cancer. I knew before I even went what the outcome was going to be that day, but I just couldn't accept it in my head.
Dr. Mcginness walked in the room after I had waited for over an hour. I was nervous and scared and didn't really want to hear what she was going to say next. She felt around my breasts and armpits and then held my hand and told me I had breast cancer. I was in disbelief even though I had sensed it already.
"But it's just like last time," I said. "Are you sure?" I mean how could she tell just be feeling around?
"Yes, I'm sure." This was an OB-GYN top in her field after all. Her nurse, MaryJo informed me she was right 95 percent of the time.
"By the size and appearance of the lump, I would say you are at stage IV."
Again, my first reaction is to argue with her. I wanted to run out of the room and get in my car and drive home. This was just a bad dream. "Wake up Leslie, WAKE UP."
I was awake though, and this was real. Very real.
"Can I call anyone for you?" the doctor asked.
I thought to myself who could I call? After all my husband was in Texas, my mother was dead, my sister was helping out with my kids, and my aunt had a daycare to run. There was noone. I was alone. I had to hear this news alone.
Once the news sunk in, Dr. Mcginess went into full attack mode. Not towards me, but towards the cancer. She wasn't going to waist anymore time.
"We need to schedule a CT scan, MRI, and I want to refer you to Dr. Sharma. Can you stay?"
I didn't really want to, but I knew if I didn't I'd never come back.
"Yes," I responded.
"We need you to head over to imaging for your mamogram."
So that was that. Appointments were made, and the process began. My life had been turned completely upside down in the matter of an hour.
I had a wonderful nurse who helped me navigate through the day, and let me tell you the day was awful. I started with a mamogram. That in itself is traumatic. I don't want to scare anyone into not having one done, but it's not pleasant. For us short people, you have to reach in such an awkward position and then hold the position for six to however many images they need to get. Then, it's the next one.
The last time I was at Westwood Cancer center was when I was with my mom. I had so many emotions running through my mind and such anxiety. I probably should have taken an anxiety pill before I went.
After the mammogram, I had to have an ultrasound done of the right and left breast, and then after that they preformed a biopsy where they took samples and put in clips. Finally, another mammogram with the clips in which hurt even worse than the first time.
I was an emotional mess. I went off on the tech and told her I was done. I couldn't take it anymore. By the end of the day I was so emotionally drained I had tears streaming down my cheeks.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I've never blogged before so I apologize in advance if my posts are at all confusing. I love to write, but also love feedback. So for those of you with similar experiences I would love to hear from you. I would love to hear from men who have had to help their wives battle cancer, or anyone who was or is a caregiver.

Last night I layed in bed thinking of all the things I could have done differently when I was diagnosed. I am so angry at myself for allowing these people to manipulate me, my family, and my children. I thought they really cared about me after all they had taken me into their home and offered support that noone else had done. I felt like I had noone. My husband had left me, my family had betrayed my trust. My ex-husband hadn't offered any emotional support. I had even pushed my best friend away.

I sat in my chair wrapped up in my conforter and I hear a knock at the door. It seemed as though Becky was coming over every day. At first I thought she really cared about my well-being. After all I had entrusted her with my children. She never really had much to say when she came over. I think she did it for appearances sake. She knew I was struggling with my husband and tried to convince me that he didn't really love me or have my best interest at heart.

"Good morning," Beck said.
This time she didn't even wait for me to answer the door and just let herself in.
"I've made an appointment with the attorney to get your affairs in order. We need to leave at 1:30."
I really didn't want to go anywhere, but I knew I had to do this. I could die, and needed a will and a medical power of attorney in place along with a living will etc.
"Allright," I said.

Later that day she drove me to the attorney's office. John was a heavy sat man with a boisterous greeting. He had a saddle in his office along with pictures of John Wayne. I knew my husband would like this guy. He was pretty matter of fact and asked me what it was I wanted accomplished. I was hiring him for a $100 to draw up my papers and to look after my best interest.

Becky explained to him my situation including the fact that I was separated from my husband. She kind of took over the meeting and John put her in her place right from the get go.

"We want to take the kids into our home and look after them until Leslie is able to get better." She said.

"Well, all you are right now is a glorified babysitter and a nosy neighbor," John responded.

That obviously didn't sit well with Becky. John could care less what she wanted. He wanted to know what I wanted and I told him. I had papers drawn up to put my dad down as medical power of attorney and power of attorney to handle my finances and anything else I needed. I also had a will drawn up in case something did happen to me. I wanted to make sure my children were cared for in case my ex-husband didn't step up.

Unspoken Rage

How can anyone not know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month? The pink ribbon is everywhere. And for those of us who have breast cancer it's hard to escape the reminder that you are living with it.
A year ago I was diagnosed with stage IV mestatic breast cancer and have undergone surgeries, chemo, and am getting ready to begin radiation. My journey won't be over though. I will still have to undergo scans every six months, and doctor's appointments every three months for the next two years. With every appointment that I go to, I run the risk of being told the cancer has returned. Cancer is physically and emotionally draining to say the least.
Every muscle that doesn't work right, my missing teeth because of the chemotherapy, my short hair and lack of eyebrows remind me every day that I am living with breast cancer and always will.
My children have been most impacted by this.
I would have never imagined when neighbors posing as good, christian people would try and manipulate my circumstances and try and steal my children from me by any means necessary. They were very good at what they did. Upstanding citizens of the community I thought this would be the best place for my kids because after watching my mother battle cancer I knew I couldn't provide them the stability they needed at least for a little while. I knew I was going to lose my hair, and get sick. I knew my appointments would take me away to another city and I didn't want to uproot them to go and live somewhere else if I didn't have to.

too be continued.....