When cancer comes back...

2 months ago...the day before Christmas Eve we sat in the doctor's office waiting to hear the words we had been dreading. 

2 months ago...we found out the cancer we thought I beat is back and has found its way to my bones. Stage 4. Incurable. 

2 months ago...we found out I will spend the rest of my life fighting for my life. 

2 months ago...we found out my kids may grow up without their mother and Brandon without his wife. 

2 months ago...despite the odds set against me we have hope and the determination to fight. 

2 months ago...we realized what family really means. They band together and stick by your side. I don't need to ask, they're just there. My army by my side. 

2 months ago...we realized, despite the devastating news, it has and continues to reveal countless blessing in our lives. 

2 months ago...I realized how strong I truly am.  

In 10 weeks this is what cancer looks like:

-Bone scan...hello radioactive contrast

-CT scan...hello more radioactive contrast

-PET scan...you guessed it, radioactive contrast

-Brain MRI...which wouldn't be complete without radioactive contrast. 

-Bone Biopsy...you are totally awake for this and have to lay really still on your stomach while they inset a needle with a small drill on the end 3 times into your hip and drill into your bone. They numb the area so you don't feel when they insert the needle, just the drilling when they reach the bone. 

-4 rounds of IV and oral chemotherapies (at least 12 more to go)

-Told I was pregnant and decisions would have to be made. It felt like a death sentence. Then told that I wasn't pregnant. Then the next day that I really might be pregnant and finally figured out I'm just going through menopause as a result of chemo. 

-Underwent surgery for Port placement in chest for chemo. 

-Allergic reaction to the derma bond used to close incision. Terrible rash!

-Deep vein blood clot develop in my left neck/arm as a result of port placement. 

-Removal of implanted port 8 days after it was put in...totally awake for this one, but actually didn't hurt much. Just freaks you out more than anything.  

-Lovenox blood thinning injections twice a day for 6-12weeks to treat and prevent blood clots. 

-103 degree fever develop after port removal which landed me an admittance to the hospital for 3 days. 

-ER visit one week later where a second blood clot on the right side this time is found. In the smaller jugular vein nonetheless. Extended treatment of 3 months minimum of Lovenox injections to thin my blood. 

All of this in 10 weeks.  10 weeks of constant fighting and pain.  

But I write this with a smile on my face and gratitude for those who have helped me make it through these past 2 months. Read this and remember what's important in this life. Take the time to tell your kids you love them. Tell your spouse their amazing. Stop right now and look around at the blessings God has granted you and give thanks. Our God is an awesome God that never leaves our side. Even in the midst of pain and the unrelenting bumps in the road God is by my side asking me to trust him.  I'm working on that.  

Thank you to my family and close friends for helping through this. My squad is badass!  Thank you for the delicious meals. Food is such a comfort and especially delicious when made by others. Thank you for showing up without being asked. Thank you for the loving texts, phone calls and emails. I often go back to them as a reminder that I am not alone. Thank you for dragging me out of the house for dinner and movies. Thank you for not letting me fall apart and give up. Thank you for the beautiful cards and beautiful flowers. There hasn't been a day in our home these last 10 weeks without fresh flowers. Thank you for being supportive when it felt like the lord was testing me. Thank you for friendship, for finding ways to help. Thank you for listening when I needed to talk. Thank you for showing kindness to my family and for finding ways to make Ava and Leo feel special at a difficult time. Thank you for just being amazing and reminding me that while I may be unlucky, I'm incredibly blessed. 

Cancer can kiss my ass. I am a strong fierce woman and I won't be going down without a fight. It may wear me down, but it can't take away my positivity, it can't take away my smile, and it can't take away my faith.  In a way cancer has given me a gift.  It has given me the gift of living, truly living.  A veil has been lifted and life means so much more than it ever did before.  How can I give into the grief I feel when time is so precious?  I won't waste it when there's so much to live for.