Tag / Cancer

by lesliedanielle87

A Letter To Cancer

Dear Cancer,

In March 2013 you came crashing into our world with complete disregard for the fact that it was a world barely standing. It was a world that had come crashing down around us only 9 months earlier when it was shattered by grief over losing dad. It didn’t matter to you that we were barely learning how to breathe again after that loss. Mom’s heart was broken and every day was a fight and then you went and started attacking her from the inside out. Your timing was cruel. Things we now know as “symptoms” were things we thought were normal parts of the grieving process. And then came the pain; the excruciating, incapacitating pain. You forced us to relive the horrors of the night dad died when we took mom to the ER for the first time. And then, a few hours later…you made yourself known. The scans showed a mass that could be indicative of ovarian cancer. CANCER. We heard that all too familiar sound of a world falling to pieces again. In those early days and weeks I remember fearing even saying your name. If I had to say it, it was never louder than a whisper. You were the elephant in the room until the diagnosis was confirmed. Stage IV Cancer. You were out for blood, you had plans of claiming another life. We were told our best chance was to build a team of people that have dedicated their lives to learning your sneaky ways so that they can find a way to obliterate you. We found our people. We formed our team. Our UCI heroes didn’t wear capes…they wore white coats. And from the beginning the goal was clear: for you to lose. We fought against insurmountable odds and you threw one curve ball and complication after the other. All along the phrase that was used constantly amongst our team was to be “cautiously optimistic” and we were. I think that angered you. You see, I think one of the biggest tricks you have up your sleeve is the lies you try to tell. You want people to believe that they are alone…both our medical team and our supportive relational team made sure we were never alone. You want people to believe their situation is hopeless…our team made sure we stayed hopeful, even if it was cautiously. And you try and convince people that you’re a death sentence…but you couldn’t change this one fact: mom wanted to live. She was choosing life for as long as there was breath in her lungs. Not even you can compete with that. Between our faith, her resolve, and our team, you really never stood a chance. In December 2013 we received the news that mom was CANCER FREE! She was free! Free of you! You had no place in our world anymore and we began to rebuild a twice shattered world. In May 2014 you snuck back in. We heard the word ‘recurrence’ and our hearts were crushed with dissapointment. But, remember that team we built? Without hesitation they got back into position and put another plan in motion. Your lies tried to creep up on us, but everything was different now. Mom was a survivor this time; a champion. A warrior that wasn’t afraid to go up against you, because she knew what winning was…and winning was the only option. That incredible team of ours put her on a clinical study. You know what that means? Every single day there are people working constantly to find new ways to beat you. And mom was committed to being a part of that. You know what else? It worked. In October 2014 the words CANCER FREE were spoken again. We have no guarantee that you won’t weasel your way back into our lives, in any one of our bodies. We celebrate the wins that we have had but only for a moment before we remember all those whose lives you claim each day. You show no bias; you sneak your way into the bodies of kids, women, men, young, old etc. Every day people hear your name for the first time and every day you make worlds crash down. And the real reason behind this letter is to tell you this: the days of your wins are numbered. I believe and have faith that in my lifetime you truly will be obliterated. You have claimed and broken too many lives. You will not continue to win. The lies you tell are simply that…lies. We know what our truth is. Our truth is that we are strong. We are brave. We are courageous. We are the ones who fight against you and all odds.

As a writer, it’s not a habit of mine to spoil the ending, but just so you know and can be sure….we win. You lose.

Sincerely,
A daughter who is tired of hearing your name,
Leslie Danielle

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by lesliedanielle87

112 Days

Last December when we found out that after an exhausting, brutal fight, mom was cancer free, we put together a video to announce our good news. You can watch that video here: http://youtu.be/EVt7khQH9qM Since then, that video has had quite a bit of circulation within our UCI family, and we hope that it goes on to inspire and encourage anyone who sees it. We ended that video with a screen that simply says: “Onto the next chapter…”

But the next chapter didn’t turn out the way we had hoped or imagined. Earlier this year when we first found out that mom’s cancer had come back we were all hit with several waves of different emotions. Fear. Anger. Disappointment. Frustration. It felt as though we had barely had time to start catching our breath from the first cancer battle. We knew that recurrence was always a possibility, but if we would have to face it again, we had hoped for more time before having to do it all again. I think within our family, we all struggled to accept the second diagnosis, at times, more than the first one. The first time mom was diagnosed, she was really sick and it was visible and painfully evident. The second time, she was herself, there was really no indication that anything was wrong, but the bloodwork and scans proved that there was…the cancer had come back. Granted, it was nowhere near what it had been before, and mom’s quality of life was still the same, but cancer is cancer. And once you’ve heard that diagnosis once, you never want to hear it again. But as is life, cancer is unpredictable and we had to choose to move forward in hope and faith that God would allow medicine to heal once again

Mom visiting with a pet therapy dog named Ella on her first day of treatment June 2014

Mom visiting with a pet therapy dog named Ella on her first day of treatment June 2014

As we moved forward to make a plan with her team of doctors, mom was faced with the decision to join a clinical study for treatment or just pursue the current standard treatment; it was a no brainer. With a little fear and apprehension, but mostly joy and excitement she joined the study. It is important to her and is something she is proud to be a part of. At some point before her first diagnosis there were people who signed on to join a study for the drugs and treatments that helped save her life. In an act of gratitude and with a deeply rooted desire to give back, she said yes to doing her part to help find even better treatments, in the hopes that one day, we will see a definitive cure for this disease.

Mom's study drug AKA her "kool-aid"

Mom’s study drug AKA her “kool-aid”

112 days ago we walked in to the Cancer Center at UCI for her first treatment. We had walked in here countless times before for lab work and previous treatments, but this time was different. We were at the start of this fight and as she has learned to do so well, mom appropriately had her fight face on. She was ready to walk into battle with no other possible outcome but winning. It was a completely different experience in comparison to the last time she received treatment and I could only identify it as one thing: she knew what it was to win. The previous times she had received treatment during her first battle, she had hoped that it would work and that she would beat cancer, but she hadn’t yet experienced what it was to be told “you’re cancer free.” So what made this time different? She walked in that first day of treatment 112 days ago already a survivor. These walls, nurses, procedures etc. weren’t unfamiliar; they were a kind of home and safe place. Naturally there was fear, hesitation, and apprehension going into treatment, but it was put at ease because she didn’t have to wonder what survival felt like…she was already a survivor.

This is her "fight face" taken 5 days into her first cycle of chemo

This is her “fight face” taken 5 days into her first cycle of chemo

In comparison to her first battle, the side effects were minimal this time around and for that we are so grateful. The biggest and most traumatic one was the loss of her hair. But as she has done so well, so many times before, she proved her bravery yet again by shaving it off. This is the part where I gush about my mom even more than usual. To those of us who haven’t been through what she has, it might seem like an easy thing to shave off all of your hair and we would all be very wrong. My mom made that decision for herself; she was not going to let cancer take anything else from her. Her decision to shave her head was a declaration to cancer that she was not going to hand over her power to it. She is brave. It might be easy to think that with all the ways we try and bring awareness to cancer that most people would be comfortable with a bald woman…let me clear up that confusion…it still makes most people uncomfortable. That fact combined with the twisted views our society has about beauty, all I can say is we still have a long way to go. But like I said, my mom is brave. And I have seen her walk confidently in any and every situation, and it is her hope, as it is mine, that her bravery will help empower other women going through it, but also that it would help teach us that it is not something that we need to look away from, but embrace, support and encourage. She is brave, and it makes me brave.

Mom rockin' her freshly shaved head

Mom rockin’ her freshly shaved head

I know this is a long post, maybe longer than usual, but stick with me because it’s about to get really good…

Yesterday we received the news that mom is CANCER FREE once again!! She received her final treatment this morning!! We hope and pray that it was her last one ever, but we trust God and his plans for the future and today we celebrate this moment!

Mom walking out of UCI after hearing that she is CANCER FREE again October 13, 2014

Mom walking out of UCI after hearing that she is CANCER FREE again October 13, 2014

Our hearts are overflowing with joy and we hope that you join us in this so this joy can be multiplied. Yet, in the midst of that joy, we ask that you pause with us to honor and pray for all those that are fighting this vicious disease and remember those who have not had the outcomes that they had hoped for and pray for their families. I hope and pray we all get to see a day where this disease is 100% curable, but until that day we need to be vigilant and support all those that are walking through it.

Mom joining UCI and #TheAntiCancer movement

Mom joining UCI and #TheAntiCancer movement

There is no better way to end this post than by expressing our deepest gratitude. God has been so faithful and has blessed us so far beyond what we could have ever hoped or imagined. And one of the biggest blessings he has given us is our support system. I wish I could list each one of you that has joined mom’s team to help her win this fight, but this is already pretty long so I will just do a few groups of people 🙂

  • To our family: thank you for committing to walk alongside us once again and for expressing your love and support in so many beautiful ways. You have held up our family in love and prayers and we could not imagine going through this without you. You fill our lives with joy, laughter, and more love than we can describe. We love you so much!
  • To all of our friends: thank you for your constant prayers, encouragement, and love. You help us see beauty of community: sorrows divided and joys multiplied.
  • To the incredible UCI staff, from the valet attendants, to the check in desk, to the nurses and aides, and study coordinator, thank you for your gift of making a difficult journey a little bit easier. You shine your lights so brightly and add warmth, joy, and love to a place that could be cold, sad, and lonely.
  • And lastly, a very special thanks to Dr. Berman and Dr. Eskander. You are the coaches of our dream team and we can’t imagine this journey without you! Your commitment, excellence, hard work, and “cautious optimism” have journeyed with us and we have the privilege of walking out on the other end once again alongside two of the most gifted human beings we have ever known. Though you are truly remarkable doctors, your gifts go so far beyond the medicine, your compassion and dedication to caring for the whole patient has made all the difference! The world needs more people like you and we are grateful, honored, and humbled to know you. We think of you and pray for you often, thank you for your permanent mark on our lives.

As the cancer free finish line got closer and closer, there were questions about how we would announce it since mom’s video from last time was such a success and my response is this: no one goes into their wedding, planning for their second wedding. The hope and idea is that you only do this once. However, God saw fit that mom fight this fight again, and so there isn’t a beautifully edited video chronicling mom’s journey this time. Instead, I decided to sit at the computer and pour my heart out and celebrate mom’s journey the best way I know how.

With the hospital behind her, remembering how far she has come, celebrating a win once again October 13, 2014

With the hospital behind her, remembering how far she has come, celebrating a win once again October 13, 2014

Thank you again to everyone who has prayed, sent positive thoughts, loved, and supported my mom and our family throughout this time. We love you more than you know!

And so we say again: On to the next chapter…

Light and Love,

The Lopez Family

 

by lesliedanielle87

Window Seat

Today I am with mom at UCI for her 5th cycle of chemotherapy. Chemo days always make for early mornings. Once she was all checked in and one of the nurses guided us to where she would be spending the next few hours, it just so happened we were sitting by a window. Most of the seats here in the infusion center are near windows, but most of them face the sides of other buildings. Today, our window directly faces the hospital.

Throughout our lives we grow, evolve, and progress, but not often do we get a clear picture of just how far we have come. This morning as I look across the courtyard to the hospital, the picture is so clear. Mom and I spent days, weeks, and months in that hospital. It’s where she nearly lost her battle with cancer. It’s where she lost her ability to walk. It’s where she learned to walk again. It’s where doctors turned into family. Its where all limits were tested. It’s where we learned just how strong we could be.

We come to UCI at least once a week, I see it often, but today when I looked out the window, I was overwhelmed…I really saw it today.

I saw how far we have come. It’s not a long distance between where we are and where the hospital is…but looking at it today, it’s the longest distance. It’s a space filled with painful memories, fear filled days and nights, doubt, and tears. But that’s not all that fills that space…mixed in to all the difficulties are all the “small wins” along the way. Each step taken, each day we made it through, the relationships that were formed, and all the beautiful souls that have joined our team and mom’s fight.

My heart is full. My heart is grateful. My heart is humbled.

We have been met by grace at every twist and turn along this path.
We’ve come a long way.

I see all that is behind us and I anxiously look forward to all that is ahead.
A future we almost didn’t have.
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