I spent the New Year’s Eve that would ring in 1998 as a missionary in Honduras. I was fascinated with a Latin American New
Year ’s Eve tradition in which they would burn “El Ano Viejo,” a scarecrow
which represented the dying year right at midnight. The purpose was to do away with any negative
energy from the old year, and usher in the New Year with good luck. I have often wanted to adopt that tradition,
but as I am a pyro-phobe it has never happened.
If there was ever a year
that I would love to burn, it is 2016! Even though I don’t have a scarecrow
ready in my backyard, I will be doing some figurative burning tonight.
This post is dedicated to
those that don’t always have an ideal holiday, or simply those who understand
what it is like to have unmet expectations.
As I attended the funeral of the sweet dad of one of my closest friends
on Christmas week, I was acutely reminded that life is what happens to us when
we are busy making other plans.
Earlier this month, as we
were listening to Sirius XM’s Holly station, Carissa, who doesn't miss a thing is asked why “My Favorite
Things” is considered a Christmas song.
I’ve always wondered the same
thing, but answered her that it was because of the “brown paper packages tied
up with strings.”
On my "Favorite
Things" list is Christmas music. I
have made several playlists of my favorites, ranging from record albums I
listened to as a child such as The Carpenters
"Christmas Portrait" (What says Christmas better than Merry Christmas Darling ?)John Denver' s and the Muppets We Wish You a Merry Christmas (I love it when Animal shouts he 'won't go'
til he gets some' figgy pudding), to more
contemporary holiday songs such Sarah McLaughlan's Song for a Winter's Night Sting's Soulcake. And of course, I have every Christmas album the Mormon Tabernacle Choir has
recorded for the past 15 years. I love
any spectcular Christmas choral arrangements by Mack Wilberg, such as The Wexford Carol, John Rutter 's Angel Carol and most recently, Dan Forrest's First Noel
While I've listened to all
those carols at least once this holiday season, the song which resonates most
with me this Christmas season is Counting Crow's "A
Long December". The message
of the song is both mournful and hopeful:
"A long December and there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last."
I love the image of frontman,
Adam Duritz and his band jamming with the accordion and piano in the woods as
the snow falls and they reflect back on the year. It's deliciously melancholic, and
quintessentially 90's, featuring "Friends" star Courtney Cox. I looked up some background info on the song,
and found out that Duritz wrote it while he was visiting the hospital of a
friend who was seriously injured in a car accident.
The lyrics,“The smell
of hospitals in Winter and the feeling that it’s all a lot of oysters but no
pearls” rings a little too true this year. I
attend the hospital weekly for either blood draws or treatment, and I will never get used to the antiseptic smell
which will ever remind me of the nausea which accompanies chemotherapy.
Traditionally I end the
year and start the next by doing a reflective re-cap of each month of the year
as I ponder what the next year's resolutions will be. This is my way of checking off each month
kind of like they do in the “Long December” video. Now, there’s a more
convenient way than journaling to review the year as Facebook creates a photographic "Year in Review" for you. It simply pulls from
what you post throughout the year, so it doesn't discriminate between your best and worst photos as that should be your job. The first time I clicked on my 2016 "Year and Review," the following photo came up:
I have to laugh, as this picture about sums up my
2016. I wonder why I would post, or allow others to post such unflattering pictures
of me swollen and yellow-skinned in hospital robes. The answer to that is that I was on a lot of
painkillers and narcotics.
If I tried to write a bare bones summary year
in review, it would go something like this:
January: I had the worst stomach flu of my life in conjunction with cumulative
chemo mouth sores. I remember my parents
kindly putting away my Christmas decorations as I languished in bed, wondering
if I would see the next Christmas or even the next week. I did recover from the flu, but it took
morphine to dull the mouth sore pain. The plus was that my weight was at a
record low as was my jean size (It's a good thing I have multiple sizes in my
closet). I switched care from Kaiser to
UCSD and met my new oncologist and liver surgeon and made plans for a 2-stage
liver resection. Chemo became less
aggressive but was still painful.
February: I continued with chemo and
signed my life away with my liver surgeon as we continued preparations for the
surgery.
March: On the Ides of March, (March 15th and my mom's birthday), I had a dual colon
and liver resection. I stayed in Thorton
hospital 6 days following, and was on heavy pain meds for the rest of the
month. I was released from the hospital with a surgical drain. Because I
was on blood thinners, I had to do daily tummy injections.
April: I continued with the pain
meds as I healed from the L-shaped incision which stretched from my chest to my
lower gut. I had to do another round of
chemo to ensure that the cancer wouldn't return between surgeries and prevent
the second critical part of my 2-stage liver resection. Everything checked out,
and I signed my life away a second time with the liver session. In each meeting, he wanted to ensure I could
repeat what my odds of dying on the surgery table would be.
May: Just as I began to recover from
one major surgery, it was time to do another, only this time, instead of having
a portion of my liver removed, I would have my entire right liver lobe
removed. I was told to prepare for a
more difficult recovery, but nothing could have prepared me for what awaited;
extra time in the ICU, a surprise IVC filter surgery with no anesthetic. I left
the hospital with an even larger L-shaped scar, and a body that was swollen from the surgery, which meant that I
had “kankles” and cabbage patch feet.
June: A physical therapist came to my home to help me re-learn
to walk. I felt like I was missing half of my gut, because I was. Thankfully, we had a downstairs
room in which I could camp out, because stairs were off limits for the
month. I learned that healing meant pain, and a lot
of it. Twice during the month, I was
racked with paralyzing stomach pain between midnight and 4am. My mom had to come and hold my hand just to
get me through the night. I also had a shingles
outbreak and a root canal, which delayed my chemo. The nightly Lovanox shots in the stomach
seemed like insult to injury.
July: I finally started to feel better, but returning to my
chemo regime post-surgery was daunting.
The fact that I had to get a 4- hour blood transfusion during my first
session back did not help. The chemo
made me vomit while my abdominal scars still smarted. I was hopeful that I would see a gain from all
this suffering and that my first post-surgical scan would be clear, but I
learned that this was not the case when my oncologist called me in 2 days
later, and his dramatic delivery of the bad news felt like I was being
diagnosed all over again.
August: I learned that chemo was
having a devastating cumulative impact on my teeth, and had 2 teeth fall out,
just like that. I had a second root canal within 4 weeks. I started to have trouble with low
platelets. Twice I went down to Moores
cancer center at UCSD, waited around half the day for my scheduled
chemotherapy, just to be told that I would be denied the treatment on account
of low platelets. In light of my recent
recurrence, this was alarming. I had a
heated exchange with my oncologist and just prayed my platelets would come up.
September: I failed my 3rd and final blood test to
receive the first-line-of defense chemotherapy. My oncologist ordered the erbitux (targeted
therapy) drug which resulted in an itchy, unattractive rash all over my face,
neck, back, and chest. How fitting that
I would appear like I had a bad case of teen acne the month I turned 40!
October: I thought that my
regular consult scheduled with my oncologist would be business as usual, but
when I asked him what the next steps would be, he responded by saying that he
couldn’t give me any information because I may or may not qualify for a
clinical trial, that I had exhausted my shot at a cure with failed surgery,
that further surgery would only shorten my life, that my life expectancy was
likely only 3 years, and that I should seek psychological help to accept
this. Carl and I reported him to Patient
Advocacy and met with our surgeon and a new oncologist. Both ordered new scans.
November: Finally some good news and redemption from so much
gravity, as the PT scan from my new oncologist came back miraculously
clear! I didn’t know if I could dare
believe it! It would seem more believable
if the clearance meant I could quit the chemo treatments and everything that
went with the cancer, but I would have to continue the same regime, every other
week for the better part of the next year.
December: Even though my time commitment to chemo was just heavy as
ever, I longed so to feel “normal” that I went through the holiday motions with
increased festive zeal. We decorated the
inside and outside of our house, had the girls in The Nutcracker Ballet, participated
in 3 Christmas choirs, helped with the girls’ classroom parties, sent out
holiday cards, and tried to get out some neighbor gifts, and hosted and attended
family parties. By Christmas Day, all I
wanted for Christmas was a long winter’s nap.
I longed for the holiday to end just as much as I want to put this
entire cancer-filled year, and my bout with cancer behind me.
So YES, I want to
ceremoniously burn 2016!!!
Yet as I think of the year in its entirety, I can’t
help but realize the good parts of the year that would have been missed if the
whole year were burned. As Garth Brooks
once sang, “I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.”
The dance that I would not have wanted to miss is the Staying Alive flash mob at my incredible 40th birthday party that my fabulous friend Amber threw.
BURN BABY, BURN!
The dance that I would not have wanted to miss is the Staying Alive flash mob at my incredible 40th birthday party that my fabulous friend Amber threw.
In addition, I wouldn’t have
wanted to miss:
- The
amazing energy, love and support I felt from so many at The Colon Cancer
5K run before my first surgery on March 5th.
- Rocking
out with my cousin Stacy at The Gwen Stefani concert
- Having the opportunity to speak at the BYU-Idaho teaching and learning conference. It was 5 weeks post-surgery, and I was barely able to get on the plane, but I made it and it was so worth it to be among dear friends.
- Celebrating
my 12th wedding anniversary at Duke’s by the Pier with Carl
- The surprise visit of one of my dearest friends from El Salvador.
- Seeing
Carl dressed as David S. Pumpkins
- Seeing
my girls in The Nutcracker Ballet.
- Getting Miraculous News:
Christmas carols are still "legal" til New Year's right, so I will take the liberty of closing this post with the sentiments from one of my favorites, "Infant Holy, Infant Lowly."
Thus rejoicing, free from sorrow
Praises voicing greet the morrow
Christ, the babe was born for you
Christ, the babe was born for you
Cheers to 2017, which will bring tomorrows that will surely be better than last year's! May we all find freedom and redemption from the yokes of yesterday.
