Saying Goodbye to Melissa

Although I never met her, I prayed for Melissa Dockery every single day.  We both had breast cancer.  Just a week before I started treatment in the Fall of 2010, Melissa began treatment.  Our mutual friend, Anne, introduced us to each other via e-mail and Caring Bridge.  It shouldn't be this way, but Melissa died today.

My initial diagnosis was about the same as Melissa's, and we mostly e-mailed back and forth about our experiences with chemo and what was working for us to help with energy or nausea.  It was somewhat comforting to know another person going through similar treatment, and Melissa became a friend or a sort-of e-mail pen pal.

Within a couple of months, I learned our journeys were taking very different routes when they found Melissa also had esophageal cancer.

 As I continued and finished my breast cancer treatments, Melissa continued on with treatment after treatment for esophageal cancer which eventually took control of her body.  She kept such a positive attitude through it all.  In the midst of treatments, she traveled to New York City and also made a recent trip to San Diego with family, and she lived life to the fullest.   Melissa was smart, and as an ER doctor at UAMS, and she knew from her medical training that esophageal cancer was brutal and left no survivors.  She took advantage of the good times and focused on the people in her life, because she knew the most difficult times were ahead of her.

It has been a somber week for me as I have thought about Melissa and hospice, and it has taken me back to where we both were a year and a half ago.  I am very sad for Melissa's family, and I pray a peace that passes understanding for them as they deal with her loss.  I still say it just shouldn't happen this way when a person is still in the prime of working and living life.   But cancer isn't fair.

For the time that I knew you, I thank you for being the encourager that you were, Melissa.  You will be missed.

Just Us--Part of My New Normal

One of the fun parts of life with grown children is that Barry and I don't mind going off and doing things on our own.  We've actually taken several vacations without the girls, and we liked it!  This past Sunday, we went to church, had a nice lunch and then did a little shopping--just the two of us.  It was so pleasant with no one giving us their opinion, and it was amazing how easy it was to decide where to eat and where to shop!

As we went from place to place, I was struck with the realization of how good I felt.  I realized I am able to go and do without it taking a toll on me physically.  It's amazing!  Unless a person has been through chemo or radiation, I believe it is difficult to understand what it can do to disable you.  In the days following a dose of chemo, I can remember my legs literally shaking when I would stand for too long a period of time.  There were achy joints and bones that were relentless for days.  There was nausea, breathlessness, puffiness, racing thoughts, and just a feeling of being dog tired.  And yet, there was determination to get better and beat this thing.

And as time has gone by, I have gotten better and better and better, and now it's almost as if it was all just a very bad dream.  Oh, I know I will still have doctor's appointments every three months for a while to make sure the cancer hasn't crept back in, but I can't tell you how good it feels not to see a doctor each week, not to have blood work.

This realization hit me in the face as we were shopping, and I thought, "I feel good, and I'm not tired!"  I knew I wouldn't have to take a nap to recover from being out for the afternoon, and that felt wonderful.  I don't want to ever take for granted feeling good and being ABLE--I feel blessed to be out and about.  I am grateful for so many things.  Truly grateful.

I'm trying to get back to normal in other areas of my life that had to take a hiatus, but some things are slow upon returning to normal.  I need to lose weight, for instance, but that hasn't happened so far, and it will just be a topic for another day.  One area that I truly miss is singing in the church choir.  I haven't gone back to singing in the choir yet because I can't bear the thought of wearing a choir robe and having a stole up around my neck and then having hot flashes on Sunday mornings.  It's hot enough for me wearing short sleeves and sandals, and there truly might be a scene if I start throwing off my choir robe or other articles of clothing in the midst of a flash!

Since I've not been singing in a choir each week, my voice is not in as good a shape as it should be, and now we've promised to sing a duet at church in the next couple of weeks.  Barry and I practiced our duet this evening, and I could tell my voice wasn't as strong as it was before chemo.  I remember it being very weak during chemo, and I hated that.  I think it was inflammation, and I literally had difficulty speaking loudly without coughing.  Right now I believe the problem is lack of practice and lack of use.  After we finished going through the song a couple of times (and by then I was a little hoarse), I told Barry I was concerned about how I sounded.  He said, "Surely you know you sound good?"  I said, "I know I'm better than the average bear, but I just don't want to embarrass you."  And then he got me.  He said, "I'm never embarrassed by you.  When we sing together, we're like oxygen in air, we just go together."  Oh my.

Even though I'm feeling good these days, it may take me a while to get everything back to normal in my life, and I realize there are things that will have to be a "new" normal.  Regardless, I think I'll be just fine as long as I have my oxygen to help me!  Yes, I'm grateful, and I don't want to take anything for granted.