Leroy Day

One year ago today, I was lying on a table, attached to an IV, prepped for surgery, and sliced open. My insides were out as the surgical staff drained 5 liters from and subsequently removed my almost-football-sized tumor, named Leroy, along with the attached nearly half of my reproductive organs. A few hours later, and 15 pounds lighter, I began to emerge from the anesthesia. I still vaguely remember the last thing I saw before going under and the first things I heard as I woke up. I remember the operating room lights, and the next thing I remember was the sound of nurses trying to talk to me as I shivered and struggled to open my eyes. I don’t think I was actually able to open them completely until I was in my room. I remember the trip from recovery to my room only from the sounds I heard...the first thing I remember seeing as I arrived in my room was my family. The next few minutes were a painful blur. I remember the nursing staff telling me to lift myself from the stretcher to my bed...apparently these geniuses hadn’t noticed the 6-inch gash going down my entire stomach, slicing through my abs, of course. I couldn’t budge. The next few days were the weakest of my entire life. I’m pretty sure I was stronger at birth than I was after this surgery.

Now, one year has passed, and I had almost forgotten how big of a deal this whole ordeal was. I was going through old pictures the other day, and I came across a picture I took of my bulging tumor-belly the day before my surgery. My jaw dropped as I remembered just how I looked. I had lost weight all over my body, but my stomach was huge. It almost gives me chills how quickly the tumor grew at the end, and the fact that the surgery probably couldn’t have been avoided much longer. I feel like in the past year, as I went from big tumor belly to tiny nothing of a belly to slowly building back up to normal belly size, I completely forgot where I was a year ago. I never showed many people the photo I took the day before surgery because in that last month the tumor nearly doubled in size, and I tried my hardest to hide it, even once people knew what was going on. My surgeon was great, she joked with me about the size of the tumor and about how my stomach went from convex to concave in an instant. I also looked at a photo I took a few days after coming home from the hospital...it was such a dramatic difference from the photo from before. I didn’t take many pictures at the time, but I kind of wish I had. I’m a photo junkie and like to have documentation of everything.

Here is a list of a few random things that I think will always remind me of one year ago:
1. Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the USA” (somehow, I woke up after surgery w/ this song in my head)
2. Fall weather/leaves...I’m constantly reminded of how I felt a year ago, as I look out my window at work and see the road I drove down for each doctor’s appointment.
3. Thanksgiving...I was so thankful to be able to eat a real meal last year on T’giving Day.
4. Jello (orange or green)...the first food I was able to keep down in the hospital.
5. Doing sit-ups...yep, every time I do an ab workout I am grateful to be able to sit up...I remember the pain of attempting sit-ups before surgery and the weakness preventing me from sitting up afterwards.
6. Seeing my scar... it looks so much better than I thought it would, but yet it’s uglier than I would like.
7. Any Piedmont Physicians/Hospital signage... yep, they frighten me now.

So, one year later...I’m tumor-free, I don’t look like I’m pregnant anymore, and my chronic back pain is no longer chronic! I can’t say I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been, but I feel pretty darn good. I had to start from point zero this spring as I attempted to get myself back in shape. I knew I wouldn’t be able to rock climb with zero abs; I couldn’t even do sit-ups until about 3 months after surgery (even then I could only do a few at a time). Since then, I’ve climbed a few times, even climbing a few that were near the level I climbed back at my peak climbing time. I have done half of the Insanity workout, which was a test to see if I really was stronger than ever. I may not have been at first, but by the end of that month I felt like a new person. I hope I never take for granted the ability to walk up stairs without being winded. I hope I always remember how during my first few Sundays back at church, I struggled to stand during the worship songs. I hope I always appreciate the ability to simply sit up, stand up, and walk. These simple things were all a challenge, even if only for a short while; I hope I always remember how discouraged I was when I thought I was going to collapse after taking 3 steps. I knew I’d be myself again one day, but I dreaded the process. I had been a healthy, strong rock-climbing fool who’s strongest muscles (the core, the abs) were destroyed only to be build back up very slowly. I was a stubborn, independent woman who was told to sit down, be still, and depend on others.

Below are some of the photos I took...the first time some of these have really been shared. Enjoy (and don't be too grossed out).

12 Hours before the surgery


About 12 hours post-surgery


This was me attempting to smile after surgery


About 4 days after surgery


3 months after surgery...almost as good as new!

One Year Since the Fear

One year ago this week (this weekend, actually) was one of the most anxiety-filled, scary times in my life. Below is a quick journal entry I typed up about a year ago, shortly before going to meet with my doctor to discuss results of a test...


10.23.09

"Dear God I'm freaking out. I don't need to be b/c I know it'll be ok. It's just been a lot to take in lately. After my first physical therapy appointment being told to schedule an appointment with my doc to look at my "distended" abdomen. Within a week I will have had 5 doctors appointments...2 physical therapy, 1 to have the doc look at my belly and run a bunch of tests, 1 abdominal ultrasound of all of my organs, and today I am going back to discuss the results of my tests. This is a lot to take in. I've always been healthy. I'm sure it's nothing big; in fact, I bet it's something embarrassingly minor. I'm sure I'll feel stupid for even worrying so much about it. Still, I can't kick the anxiety of not knowing...even if it is something small or nothing at all, I am kind of freaking out. I've left work early for appointments all week, so I'm sure my coworkers are curious...though, I have been implying that it's all related to physical therapy or routine stuff. I hope that is all it will turn out to be. I didn't sleep well last night b/c all I could think about was how bad it could potentially be. That's ridiculous. I have no control here, and it's probably more likely that nothing's really wrong. Still, I seem to see the worst possibilities. I am glad to have taken the route I did though, talking to my doctor about my back pain when I went in for a sinus infection a few weeks ago. If it hadn't been for that, my physical therapist wouldn't have been able to point out that my stomach shouldn't poke out the way it does. I'm sure that whatever (if anything) is wrong isn't that time-sensitive because this has been going on a while...but then again, what do I know? Ugh, "trust in the Lord, lean not on your own understanding"...I need to do that, I need to quit thinking about it and just trust in the Lord. Maybe I'm worried because I'm not really worried enough. I don't know...I am not going to think about it anymore until my appointment at lunchtime. Until then, it's all God...no more worrying."


Now back to the present...At that moment, as anxiety-filled as I was, the true fear had not yet hit. I could have been scared when my doctor rushed the test results of the abdominal ultrasound, but I really wasn't. I could have freaked out when the doc called me only 24 hours after the test were done asking that I come to his office to go over the results he received, but I didn't. I still kind of found it humorous that while so many of my friends and colleagues were having ultrasounds to take a look at their new babies, I was having one to see what was wrong with me. The fear set in at about 12:30pm on that Friday...when I finally spoke face-to-face with the doctor. A year later, I barely remember the details of the conversation...even at the time, only a few words resonated in my mind... "maybe a tumor"..."possibility of cancer"..."oncology specialist"..."CT scan"..."surgery"...etc. My doctor even pointed out to me that this was very serious news and that I was taking it shockingly well. And that is when the fear began.

I remember being asked if I had family in the area, at which point I knew this was serious. I was tough, though, and I kept my game face. As the doctor explained the CT scan procedure I'd go through the following Monday, I held it together. As I walked out of the office w/ all of my forms, the doomsday letter describing what the ultrasound uncovered, and two jugs of disgusting CT contrast liquid, the fear began to take root. Now, I've been scared before...in fact, I have quite the list of irrational fears and anxieties. I can be a huge wimp sometimes. I held it together in this moment, though. I got to my car, took a deep breath, and then I realized that I should probably call my mom and let her know what was going on. Until this moment, I assumed that it wasn't serious, so I hadn't told my parents about all the doctor's visits. That is when the fear that had taken root began to sprout. I lost it, and I'm not the kind of person who loses it easily. I don't cry in front of people (or on the phone with people)...but I lost it. I ended up spending the weekend back home in Valdosta, but I was in haze the whole time. The fear of not knowing what was inside of me was looming in my mind constantly. It was quite a blessing, in the end, to find out the following Tuesday that my CT results revealed a likely benign tumor. Benign...whew, and then the fear was defeated.

One year since the fear...11 months since the surgery...9 months since returning to the daily grind of life. What a year!

The Gift of Unmarriedness

I know we have all heard the cheesy reference that singleness is a gift, blah, blah, blah. Well, I have decided that “single” is a term that implies being alone. Being single, or unmarried, does not mean that we have to be alone. Therefore, from here on out, I will be using the term “unmarried” instead of “single”...besides, by the time we reach this age, people are simply either married or they are not. So back to the point...the gift of being unmarried. Now, as an unmarried person who has been known to wallow in self-pity over the fact that I’m alone, I am openly acknowledging that being unmarried is a gift. In recent generations, the number of people marrying later in life has increased substantially, thus creating a group that has never had such a large presence in the past. The unmarried adult group is booming. As unmarried adults these days, we have freedoms and opportunities that previous generations could only dream of. If we want to travel abroad, spend time in missions, go back to school, uproot and move to another city, etc, we can do it when we want. We are responsible for ourselves and only ourselves. We are a single-person-family, as a friend has pointed out to me.

As unmarried adults, we have nothing but opportunity ahead of us...yes, one day it would be ideal to have the companionship that comes along with marriage, but there’s no use in wasting our time and energy now focused on what may come in the future with marriage. The gift of unmarriedness is in the fact that so many people never get to experience what we do at this phase in our lives. Many of our parents probably married in their early to mid 20s, and many of my old friends and colleagues were married by 25. I’m happy for them, and they are pleased with their lives as well. However, they are kind of missing out on something the unmarried group gets to experience...independence and freedom. This can be a double-edged sword if we take it to such a level that we don’t allow even close friends and potential mates to get inside our “bubbles,” but for the most part the kind of independence we experience can be quite healthy. I think that in the past, women were expected to keep their lives in a state of limbo until Mr. Right came along to help them create a life together. Women were encouraged to get married so they could “settle down” and have a family...which meant that until someone came to sweep them off their feet, they were nothing but in-between.

Our generation has been given the opportunity and encouragement to do more with our unmarried adulthood. We can travel anywhere we want, we can go after dreams that maybe would be much less practical if we were married, we can go back to school or change our career...the world is our oyster. It is often tempting to put a lot of things on the back burner in the hope of finding a man before “growing up”...buying a house, for example, is an option for anybody these days, and there is no reason that we can’t own a home before we find our spouse. There’s no reason to wait to pursue that dream job or master’s degree. I think the biggest challenge we unmarried folks face is ourselves. Since there is a larger presence of unmarried people in the church now than in the past, there is a huge untapped market that is not being directly ministered to. Many churches have tried Singles ministries, but due to the fear of being a part of a “meat market,” many people are hesitant to participate. I truly believe that unmarried people need something more than just hang out time with other unmarried adults. We need support, just the same as newly married couples, parents, college students, etc. There are ministries for moms, for engaged couples, for married couples, for college students, for youth, and so on. These ministries exist to provide support and community to groups with specific needs. Yes, there are plenty of general opportunities in small group and bible study settings for everybody, but what about specifically addressing the needs of the unmarried community in the same way needs are addressed for the other phases in life? By this I mean that maybe there needs to be a movement within the church (by “the church,” I don’t mean a specific church...I’m being general).

I truly think that unmarried women would benefit from being in Christian community with other unmarried women who face the same challenges and insecurities...there are a lot of us out there, and we are all struggling in some ways. Imagine what growth could come if we were able to provide support to one another? As for the unmarried Christian men, I believe they could truly benefit from guidance within the church. Maybe it’s just me, but as a Christian woman, I can’t exactly picture myself benefiting from (or even taking part in) an unmarried-people bible study or ministry that’s led by a married woman. From other people I’ve spoken to on the topic, it seems that the consensus is that single, unmarried women need the kind of community (and leadership within the community) of other unmarried women. We don’t want to be led by a woman who is already married...even if she didn’t marry until her 30s, the fact remains that she is no longer struggling with what we currently face. Men, on the other hand, seem to need guidance. They are to be the spiritual leaders, and I think as such, they are wired to better accept guidance/leadership/support (whatever you want to call it) from someone who is already “a step ahead” in a way. I think unmarried men should get guidance and support from men who have been there but were able to figure out what to do next...from men who are currently acting as spiritual leaders in their own marriages.

There it is...the gift of unmarriedness presents wonderful opportunities and challenges. My prayer is for other unmarried folks to embrace the opportunities and freedoms we have been blessed with at this unique phase in our lives, and I also pray for those unmarrieds who are facing particular struggles to seek community an not try to fight the battle alone.

Psalm 13

Psalm 13

1 How long, O LORD ? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
3 Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;
4 my enemy will say, "I have overcome him,"
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.
5 But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
6 I will sing to the LORD,
for he has been good to me.


Today, in the midst of weeks of personal madness and struggle, this was the verse read during mid-day service at church. My thoughts are kind of all over the place, so maybe I'll continue to think on it and post more later. To keep it simple, though, I feel like David in this psalm. I wonder how long I will struggle with the same weakness. Every time I forget something or mess up or get frustrated, I wonder how long I will have to face this demon, among others. Even through it all, while wanting to cry out, "why?...how much more!..." I'm reminded that He has still be good to me, even through the pain.

More thoughts to come later, I'm sure...just wanted to share a good psalm.

The hand that reaches out

I had the image of myself looking up from a hole or a pit or something, and outstretched before me was a hand. The hand has no clear face, just a body...this hand pulls me up from the pit and gives me a sense of comfort in knowing that I'm not alone.

Now flash forward a week or two to the present. I have been beyond overwhelmed for the past few weeks and have felt as if I'm slowly moving toward the edge of a cliff for even longer than that. I use this imagery because it helps me to illustrate and understand what's going on inside. The way I see it, hanging out on plateau, or mountain or whatever, is not so awful...and I think we all find ourselves there. We are in our routine, we are steady and stable, and we feel safe and secure away from the edges. Then, life happens...we take a big blow that swiftly sends us closer to the edge, but still a comfortable distance with possibility of recovering back to point zero. Then, another blow, and another...we find ourselves so close to the edge that, while we have been able to regain our balance after a few big blows, there is no longer room for such a large hit. All it takes at this point is a slight shove, a small stumble even, to send us over the edge. Well, I've been at this breaking point for weeks. I feel like I've been teetering on the edge of a cliff and have finally fallen over. I feel as if I've fallen over but cannot use my former climbing skills to recover, so I'm just holding on. This is where the image that popped into my head a few weeks ago comes into play. Here I am, hanging on for dear life, and a hand reaches out to pull me back in.

I feel as if it's a reminder that not only are there people around who won't let me go off the edge, but even when I feel most alone and doomed, the hand of God is reaching for me. Here's the kicker...He can reach out His healing hand all day long, and it will do me no good if I don't let go of the ledge and grab hold of Him. The theme of knowing when to hold on and when to let go has been at the forefront of many areas of my life lately. So, it's pretty obvious that I need to let go of the ground I walk upon and the things that appear sturdy and grab hold of the hand of God reaching out to lead me.

Here's the tricky part...I don't have a clue how to successfully do this. The earthly things that are obvious stumbling blocks in my life are my job, my responsibilities, bills, etc...these are the things that stress me out and break me down. I wish it was more clear to me what to do...I thought I knew. I thought I saw this opportunity presenting itself that would simplify my life (in terms of lifestyle, money, etc), and now I see huge stumbling blocks between me and this opportunity. The old me wants to give up and assume that roadblocks in the way mean it's not meant to happen. Then again, I can't help but remember the times in the past that I've let a little bit of a bump keep me from something big. If only life came with an instruction manual with step-by-step directions for our individual lives.

The road ahead...

I just have to remind myself that 7 years ago, I was hesitant to leave Valdosta and move to Atlanta. I was leaving behind all of my friends and the only home I'd ever known. I was afraid of the unknown around the next corner...now I've rounded that corner, and I couldn't have been any more blessed these past 7 years. I was scared of a life to which I had not yet been introduced. Now, years later, I am once again faced with the fear of leaving behind a home with which I have grown comfortable. This time, however, I would be going much farther than a 4 hour road trip away. When I came to Atlanta for the first time 7 years ago, I intended to only be here for 3 years while I finished college. I look down the road that lies ahead now, and I don't know what's next...I see many options, but the question remains as to whether or not I'm ready for the leap I feel called to take.

I'm rambling. Honestly, the thought of what lies ahead scares the crap out of me. However, that is going to be the case whether I'm here or across the world. We do not know our tomorrow. Almost a year ago, I thought I had it all planned out, and those plans were interrupted by a frightening and inconvenient experience with a tumor. That experience made me stop and think, obviously. All I can think of now is that I don't want to waste my time or my life. If I feel a calling to go, then I will go. I can't wait for it to be convenient. I can't hesitate to follow the call. I can't look back or say I'll go only if the timing is perfect...that will never happen. If I am going to follow the call, I have to be willing to pick up and go when and where I am called.

Again with the rambling. I am keeping this vague for a reason, though if anybody does read it, at least half of you will know to what I am referring.

When it comes down to it, I am afraid (and have always been afraid) of being left behind. In many situations, I have stepped back and seen that I have been, in a way, left behind. Changes are currently happening all around me, and if I let myself stay here, I will once again allow myself to be swallowed up by the overwhelming feeling of being left behind. It has already begun to happen, and I cannot stop inevitable change. Change isn't bad (as I mentioned in my previous post), and I am willing to embrace change as it comes. In this situation, I have nothing to lose...change is going to happen whether I am around to witness it or not.

Whether or not this is where God is about to lead me, I am not sure, but I will go. Having said that, I am here now, whether I like it or not. So, until the time comes for large scale change, the challenge becomes embracing the uninvited changes happening all around me.

Another year gone by

Even though my birthday was actually a few weeks ago now, I've finally gotten around to taking my annual look at life. Every year around my birthday, I make a new year's resolution. This is a new year in my life, and there's no reason to not resolve to change or grow in some way. I'm sure in a year I'll look back on this and see how much farther along I am at that time. Until then, here I am doing what I can with who I am.

This year's resolution involves a little more action than in years gone by. In fact, it's all about taking action and moving forward. Like many people, I have always had certain dreams and goals that I'd hoped to accomplish throughout my life so far. I guess you could say I'm a bit of a dreamer because most of those dreams were never realized. I have quite the list of "almosts," yet I've said for years that my main goal in this life is to have no regrets. I finally realized that having a list of "almosts" is not much different than me holding on to regrets. So, this year I will pursue an "almost." There have been so many dreams and passions I've had through the years, and I have let many of them go simply because I was scared to push on and follow through. I don't actually regret never pursuing these avenues because the lack of pursuit brought me to where I am today...which I cannot regret that, even when my current state makes me want to scream and cry.

Pursuing an "almost" is a frightening experience. I gave up on this particular "almost" years ago for reasons that, at the time, seemed valid. I see now that my reasoning was flawed, naive, and lacking faith. So, it is with much prayer that I push forward. It is with a willingness to abandon all that I know as comfortable that I will take the next step. No lie, I do doubt my ability to accomplish this. I also doubt, at times, that it will happen. I remember the first time I fully pursued something that seemed too good to be true, something that could have easily turned into one of my "almosts." I remember the sense of joy and peace I felt by following that path, but I also remember the challenges I faced. I remember being changed, and in many ways I would never be the same again. This is the cost of pursuit, a willingness to be transformed into someone we never expected.

By standing still, I will never grow. Honestly, I often wish I could hop in my car, hit the road, and keep driving until I couldn't drive anymore. Change is frightening, but sometimes it is the only option. We can either let change overtake us and break us down, or we can abandon ourselves to the changes that lie ahead. The latter is much more difficult because it means accepting that who we are and where we are is not who and where we will be. It means throwing structure and caution to the wind. It means being ok with the fact that all we know can change in an instant. It means trusting God when the world around us seems to crumble. It means knowing when to hold on and when to let go.

6/9/10

And then it changed...

Seven months ago, I wrote this blog for the Vine City blog.......

"It was the last Sunday I'd be around for the rest of the year, and it was a special one. It began when I stopped to pick up Aalliya for pancakes, and as usual, she sprinted for the car. As I hung around the house as people laughed and talked over pancakes and coffee, I realized how much I will miss this in the 8 weeks ahead. I hadn't been around pancakes as much the past month or so because of a bit of a crazy schedule, so I knew I needed to get my fix before disappearing for a while. I am so glad to have been there this past Sunday. New faces and old, so many smiles and hugs. Conversations with children always make me want to just squeeze them in a huge hug, even though I'm not much of a hugger.

Out back as I sat enjoying my coffee, I couldn't help but smile at the intense game of cornhole being played. Those kids are so much better than I am at throwing a beanbag at a target, mad skills. Then the unthinkable happened, someone mentioned that Miley Cyrus song that everyone knows the words to (but somehow I can't remember the name). The next thing I know, I'm singing "hands up, playing my song..." It came out of nowhere, and it frightened me a bit. Then CJ took over, he showed me how it was done...that kid knows every word, and apparently some dance moves as well. It was magical. I could not have asked for a better pancakes experience. As we headed toward the cars, CJ still singing as others joined in, I realized I was in a sort of paradise. These kids are so special...and they are definitely more skilled dancers than I am.

As we got to my car, I already had kids hugging the outside...apparently they like orange. CJ and DeAndre both referred to the car as their car, but Aalliya let them know that she still gets to ride in it the most. I had a packed car, CJ up front, and small Aalliya stuck between two boys (Javonte and DeAndre) in the back. They were so loud on the way to church...conversations that barely made sense to me. CJ kept asking me to turn the radio up, and we danced. Two weeks in a row I danced my way to church...and I'm not a morning person or a good dancer. Amazing. As the kids went to their respective areas (classroom or big church), I was amazed to see the maturity in some of them that I don't think was there before. I saw Javonte go over to Kris McDaniel and give him a hug...that was cool. Every moment, I drank it in because I knew that it would be a long time before I'd get to enjoy it again. Anything can happen in 8 weeks, a lot can change, so in that moment, I just drank in all that I could, all that was, before it changed. I am so grateful for the community I've found here.

So, for the next 8 weeks, I will be absent from Vine City activities...I hope everyone has a wonderful and safe holiday season. I can't wait for my return in 2010!"
...........


Today, days before my birthday and months after my surgery recovery, I re-read the blog. I went scrolling through the blogs to see what I'd contributed. I kind of felt like maybe I needed to revisit a piece of myself that I seem to have lost or forgotten maybe. It was eerie to re-read this, honestly. A piece of me almost vividly remembers that Sunday. I remember tasting joy and feeling love and hope. I also can see from what I wrote that I knew it would never be the same. Toward the end of the blog, I wrote about how anything can happen in 8 weeks, etc. At the time, I was referring to the potential of me not returning to Atlanta after my surgery. I was unsure whether or not this was where I needed to be. What I didn't realize is that, while a lot changed in that 8 weeks, more change would come. I don't really know what I'm saying. What hit me upon re-reading was the phrase, "before it changed." I honestly didn't think anything would realistically change, other than the physical fact of my surgery and recovery, a bit of emotional stress and healing, and potentially relocating to another city for a short while. I never really thought that 7 months later, I would feel chills upon reading this. Something has changed. I don't know what. I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's temporary or maybe I'm being called in a different direction. I still love those kids, but since returning 5 months ago, I have been far less involved. I do group events and go to pancake breakfast, etc, but it feels different. I enjoy every moment of it, and my involvement is definitely a bit of fuel that keeps me going. Something has changed though. Maybe it's me, maybe something in me has shifted. Maybe I have become so pre-occupied with other areas of my life that the involvement with Vine City has become something different.