Month: January 2025

Support

In October of 2023, I began treatment for pancreatic cancer. I’ve had 3 rounds of chemo therapy (all administered through a port on the right side of my chest), radiation, The Whipple surgery, integrative therapies, all sorts of labs, CT and PET scans, 2 ER/hospital stays and numerous doctor’s appointments. What this does not include are the side effects from chemo therapy; hair loss, mouth sores, fatigue, nausea and vomiting, loss of appetite, digestive issues, neuropathy (numbness and tingling in hands and feet), low blood cell counts, cognitive changes, emotional changes, and skin and nail changes.

Having trusted family and friends during this journey is invaluable. They provide a support network that significantly impacts my physical, emotional, and mental well-being. Knowing I can talk openly about my feelings reduces the emotional strain and helps me to stay strong on difficult days. Managing stress is a huge part of the healing process. Stress exacerbates treatment side effects and can weaken the immune system.

Lastly, but most importantly, is my relationship with God, which provides profound comfort, strength and meaning in a time of uncertainty and challenge. I draw strength from prayers and find comfort in scriptures (Isaiah 41:10, Psalm 23:4, Philippians 4:13). I look for God’s presence in small moments and use worship music for hope and encouragement. I trust in God’s purpose (Jeremiah 29:11) and trust Him in the healing process. I know He has a plan for my life even though I don’t always understand it. He uses everything for His glory.

Words

In the modern English language we have about 170,000 words currently in use. The French use about 60,000 to 100,000 words. Modern Greek has around 600,000 to 700,000 words actively used today (wow!). Words are used as tools for communication and expression. There are spoken words, written words and non-verbal words (i.e., signs, posters, art). Words can do so many things; they can heal, harm or give hope.

As a cancer patient, I have heard words of hope, encouragement and love but I have also heard words of sadness, pain, frustration and fear. Words can change the outcome of someone’s day or put a smile on a stranger’s face. What verbally comes out of our mouth is so powerful and it also can show the condition of our heart.

I recently heard a daughter tell her mother “I love you Momma.’ My daughter has said those exact words to me throughout my life. These are words I treasure. We don’t know if what we say will be the last words someone will hear or if someone really needs to know they are worthy and loved. Before you speak, think about what your words might do to another human being or what your words say about you. This also applies to our actions. My parents always said “your actions speak louder than words” but I say clear communication often matters as much as action. Well chosen words can unite or motivate people in a profound way. While actions often validate words, the two are most effective when they work together. Be authentic and vulnerable, then the words we speak will be more meaningful and impactful, and sincere intentions/actions will naturally follow.

Reality Check

This week while I was at the infusion center one of my new friends had a very serious medical emergency. Witnessing this during something as personal and emotionally charged as my chemotherapy infusion was a deeply jarring and surreal experience. I already feel I am in a vulnerable state – physically from the infusion and emotionally from the weight of my own illness. The room suddenly shifted from quiet perseverance to one of immediate crisis.

At first I wasn’t sure what was happening. As the nurses were rushing and 911 was being called, I still struggled to process that my new friend’s life was at risk right in front of me. Suddenly this cheery, quiet room was filled with urgency: sharp commands, the crash cart being wheeled from it’s dusty corner and the hurried movement of staff trying to save a life.

This reality hit me like a wave: this isn’t just something I read about or saw on TV. It’s happening here, in this room, to someone who has sat in the same chair as me. Someone who I sat and talked with the day before, someone who has a family, someone I rode in the elevator with 30 minutes before. I think of my own vulnerability, how fragile life is, especially in a place where everyone is already fighting for survival.

I also feel so helpless. I felt like I should do something or, at the least, leave the room but I was tethered to my IV line, facing my own battle. The dichotomy of life and death playing out so vividly in one place was overwhelming.

A few days have passed since this tragic event but the images replay in my mind: the stillness of my friend, the urgent efforts of the team, the uncertainty of what happens next. I feel shaken, it’s all a visceral reminder of mortality. I am also grateful for nurses and doctors who fight so hard for their patients. I am extremely blessed with wonderful doctors and nurses.

In that moment, I witnessed both the fragility of life and the strength of those fighting to preserve it. It was a sobering, life-altering experience. I am thankful I know my Father in heaven, as did my friend. I will see her again one day.