Sand Dollars and Rainbows III

"Yes, I just have to keep on, we all do. I just keep telling myself that there is no reason I can't be in that percentage that stays alive. Why shouldn't I be? Or you? Or anyone else in this fight? I have been in very small percentages before, medically speaking, so my 5 year survival rate of 55% should be a piece of cake. " The words of Kristi's e-mail resonated in my heart.  She was comforting me through the loss of our fellow Pink Ribbon Cowgirl, Michelle Bynum.  In less than a month of meeting, Kathryn, Kristi and I were faced with the harsh reality that some of us will be forced to physically leave our families and friends.  It struck Kristi hard because their 'journeys' basically parallelled- same disease, same stage, same amount of lymph node involvement.  (See the next post for a note Kristi wrote about her fight.).

Kristi consoled me through e-mails, phone calls and texts.  She encouraged me to just go with it.  Michelle and Kristi were so much alike.  Kristi would walk up to any bald woman and encourage them, just the way Michelle encouraged me. 

The first time I met Michelle, she walked right up to me."Hey!  I've had that haircut before!  I am about to have it again."  She was so endearing and fearless.  She peered deep into my eyes, knowing what laid before me as if to confirm that yes, I did have what it takes to fight this beast.  She found a pen and paper and wrote three things on it:

Michelle Bynum ...her number...
Pink Ribbon Cowgirls
Wonders and Worries

She shared as much information as she could with me.  She assured me that it would was perfectly okay if I forgot everything she told me.  Most importantly, she shared a hug of hope that seemed to last forever...the same hug that Kristi gave me time and time again.

Kristi was so excited to transition from fighter to survivor on February 1, 2011.  We were going to meet Kathryn and the twins for a play date at a jump house.  She called Kathryn and I to let us know that Luke and her were not going to be able to make it.  Her girlfriends surprised her at home with wine in hand to celebrate the big day.  I am pretty sure it was before 11AM...and that is how Kristi rolls! 

Kristi, Kathryn and I grew closer and closer through several series of e-mails (Yes, series...as in LONG strands of replies within one subject of an original e-mail), Facebook messages, play dates, Pink Ribbon Cowgirl luncheons, and PRC luncheons that we played hooky on together.  In one particular e-mail strand, OMG!, we decided that we would be the Pink Ladies.  Kathryn is Sandy, because she has a 'thing' for John Travolta.  I wanted to be Frenchy.  Kristi just happened to respond last with this:

"So I'm Rizzo? because I'm bawdy, right?? I'm okay with that!! I had a couple of margaritas and then dropped the F Bomb this weekend at a party to the sweetest (and most sober) kindergarten teacher at our school... oops... She may get Luke in a couple of years, so I'm sure his behavior will turn her on to margaritas. Or at the very least, using the F Bomb herself."  This was Kristi, honest, matter of fact and funny as Hell!  Kristi is my walking, talking Saturday Night Live Skit in the flesh!  She always has one liners and stories, oh the stories and the way she told them were hilarious.  She often had me crying with laughter!

It is hard to pinpoint the 'best' time I ever had with Kristi.  She was always, just real, you know?  One particular night, Kathryn, Jonas, Kristi and I went to Graphic 5.  For two months preceding the BCRC fundraising extravaganza, Kathryn, Kristi and I toyed with the idea of becoming models for 2012. This would give us ample time to lose jiggly parts, muffin tops and get boobs (me...they still had theirs).  Kathryn was the most reserved.  (She is Sandy for a reason!)  Kristi had two goals: 1. Stay alive. 2. Become a MILF.  I loved these goals so much that I took them on as well.  This pretty much coincided with becoming a model for Graphic, so it seemed doable.

To say the evening was blastastic is an understatement!  Kristi had me in stitches the entire way to Graphic!  She wasn't purposefully trying to make me laugh.  That was just Kristi, always entertaining, and well 'SNL-y'.  Driving with tears welling up in my eyes and running down my face was difficult.  We managed to get there in one piece.  We walked up to the doors, laughing at each other as we struggled to walk correctly in our "nice" shoes.  Both of us were restricted to tennis shoes, or comfy flip flops because of pain, peeling skin, pain, and pain.  

Here we are at the beginning of Graphic: Kristi AKA Rizzo, Me AKA Frenchy and Kathryn AKA Sandy

Kathryn and Jonas arrived dressed to the nines with the perfect amount of bling.  (You go, Kathryn with your tasteful bling!)  We searched for fellow Pink Ribbon Cowgirls who were floor models.  Then we gawked at the striking beauty of these women.  The bras that were on display each had their own story.  Kathryn and Kristi made bids on two super blingy bras, which they ended up getting!  We mumbled to each other how flippin' steep the stairway was as we closed in on more food and the BAR upstairs.  The food was incredible, but the energy and excitement there was over the top! 

Kristi and Kathryn sporting the Art Bras they 'won'.

We were unashamedly celebrating being alive.  We were celebrating the lives of those that cancer stole from us.  We were celebrating the fierce determination and perseverance of each and every model that WORKED that runway!  The announcer shared each sister's story as they came out to strut their stuff.  Each individual journey that was shared united us with one another.  Although our journeys were different, the themes of devastation, courage, hope and triumph permeated each one. 

Our "Fighter" picture taken just moments after we got matching tattoos.  Do you see how Kristi literally transforms this picture by pushing up her muscle and kissing it?  Hilarious, because that's how she rolls!

As the designated driver, I was responsible for getting Rizzo and I home safely.  Who can do that when you have a comedian back seat driver?  We searched unsuccessfully for a place to get some grub before heading to Kristi's.  She invited me in for a few minutes.  We sat at her dining room table until the wee hours of the morning just sharing.  A few minutes always turned into extended conversations with Kristi.  The simple way she spoke was colorful.  You just couldn't help but be entertained, or engrossed, depending on the topic at hand. 

She shared the struggles her and Todd shared with infertility, their miscarriages, and the torsion she endured with Lukey. Kristi shared her college experiences, her transition from being a teacher to marketing, her life in Chicago and the reason she felt she came to Texas.  At first, she thought it was the fertility clinic, but she passed Texas Oncology each time she went.  She truly believed (when she was diagnosed) she came to Texas, so Dr. Hellerstedt would fight with her against this monster called cancer.  I walked away that night in utter amazement of the woman who called me friend...her breast friend!  Wow!  She was optimistic and hopeful in spite of these struggles.  She left me hoping to be at least half as encouraging as her.

Oh, my heart aches for her.  I miss her so much.  To be continued when I can...

Sand Dollars and Rainbows Part II

Hannah Beth and Aiden burst through the church doors as excited-out-of-control kids sometimes do.  Hannah Beth left Aiden half running, half falling behind her.  Ray helped me in.  The joy of celebrating the 2010 Wonders and Worries Christmas Party with my family outweighed the pain and nausea that gripped me.  They hopped from craft to craft making friends along the way.  I tried desperately to keep up, to stand up, to walk.  THEN THE PIZZA ARRIVED.  I had to intercept the milk ridden pizza from the mouth of my sweet boy.  They always had snacks to accommodate him.  We passed up the pizza and cookies, but offered him some other snack that eludes this chemo brain of mine now. 

Hannah Beth chose to sit on the ground rather than at the table and chairs.  WTF, I thought. 
A.  How will I get down there?
B. How will I stay down there?
C. How will I get up? 

A little man was bee-bopping around his mom, dad and brother.  He quickly distracted me from my conundrum.  He was hilarious.  As his mother wrangled him in, I asked her how old he was.  He was the same age as Aiden.  She introduced herself, Todd, Sam and Luke.  We traded the several battles we endured during our war.  I had met several strong women within my two year fight and recovery, but none who had as many complications as me.  It was nice to meet somebody that was willing to lay her heart out so quickly to me.  Breast Cancer Sisterhood does that to a person. 

We were both Pink Ribbon Cowgirls and figured out pretty quickly that we had a mutual friend, Kathryn. She knew Kathryn VERY well as they were diagnosed within a week of each other and went through "chemo orientation" together.  Kathryn and I met through a Livestrong class.  Both of these women are the kind that never meet a stranger.  They both have a laugh that makes YOU laugh.  You know the kind that you can't forget?  The kind that is bringing a Kool-Aid-Kid smile to my face as I type.  Through this thing called cancer, all three of us were instantly drafted into the infantry.Through this thing called cancer, we were bonded by love, courage, strength and above all HOPE.

We barely noticed where we were and why were there!  Todd and Ray had both done a great job of keeping the kids busy why we continued to talk.  This woman, who's name I had already forgotten and I kept talking as our husbands patiently busied our kiddos with the festivities. Our husbands had to practically organize an intervention to stop our conversation.  Reluctantly, I left and refocused on my beautiful children who were bursting with energy driven by sugar, carbs and SANTA! 

Before I knew it, the staff and volunteers began to pack up the decorations and left-over crafts.  We walked out the door, my heart was full.  My sweet kids had an absolute blast, my husband was tired and happy, and I was able to come!  God brought another woman into my life that knew my heart before I spoke.  She knew the constant pain and unending struggle to keep on fighting for EVERYTHING.

As we loaded up in the truck, Ray commented on the family we just met.  I only remembered Sam and Luke's names. Within a split second, I was disappointed with the effects of chemo on my brain.  How is it that I can meet somebody that I truly enjoy company with and forget their name?  Who does that!?!?  Ray consoled me for not being able to remember the names of the woman and her husband. Thank God,  we traded our digits and e-mail addresses! I popped a Zofran, Meclizine, Compazine (anti-nausea), and a Norco (pain) for the ride home.  I looked down at the napkin as we drove home, "Kristi Appenzeller..." 

Sand Dollars and Rainbows

The anticipation of salty air when I approach a beach equals the belly laughter of a child to me.  I can taste it.  Like apple pie is to many Americans, the beach offers me a comfort and happiness that comes from home.  It is the one place I can enjoy the true beauty of God's creation, count my blessings, release my anger, conquer my anxieties and endure heartbreak.  It is one place I NEVER have trouble finding hope.

I was given the opportunity to live in Pismo Beach, California for the first 6 months of 2001.  It was a time of complete chaos, pain, and daily torment for me...BUT I lived in a condo just two blocks from the beach.  The sound of the waves would lull me to sleep and gently wake me in the morning.  The salty air saturated every part of me. 

Each day ran I through the damp sand.  With every stride, I tested God: 

"If you are really here, if you really exist, I need a sign.  If I find a whole sand dollar without blemish, then I know you are who you say you are.  I know that your promises are true.  I know you will deliver me from this evil man that torments me daily." 

Every single day, I would drop my son (my only reason for living) off for school during the week.  I would wake up before my husband and son (who I loved with every fiber of my being) on the weekends in search for that damn sand dollar.  In light of my circumstances, I KNEW He would let me down.  I KNEW this faith in Christ Jesus had to be a fluke, because He couldn't possibly allow the nightmare that I was living to continue. I KNEW it was inevitable that I would live in shame and torment for the rest of my life until I was killed by the hands of the man I loved.

That damn sand dollar appeared during that 2 1/2 mile stretch of beauty every single frickin' day!  Still, I tested this God who said He was Love.  So, I ran faster.  A sand dollar would show up. I stopped looking down while running.  A sand dollar would appear as I was catching my breath.  I allowed my bare feet to go deeper and deeper into the water as I ran.  That damn sand dollar still showed up under 6 inches of water.  I must have met the entire extended family, friends and their sand dollar dogs of that first stupid sand dollar!

I was afraid to bring them home.  I didn't want to let on that a hope was rising within me.  My body was getting stronger and so was I.  My fear diminished.  Slowly the fighter in me was created.   I had hope and I put my trust back into the Hands of God. 

In June, He did in fact deliver me.  I lost the my son, who I believe kept me alive.  I gained a renewed relationship with the Lord that would give me an unwavering strength to live.  I slowly began to understand that it was Jesus who kept me alive.  He used the intercession of my friends and family and the love of my son to do it.  He orchestrated the perfect way for me to be removed from this shameful life that I was trapped in. 

To be continued...