Tag / Cancer

by lesliedanielle87

If I Ever Needed Grace

This morning on my way to work I heard a Jimmy Needham song called “If I Ever Needed Grace” that talks about the various moments in his life that he was aware of just how much he needed God’s grace. The chorus says: “If I ever needed grace it’s now, you are strong when I am weak somehow. And I am weak enough to see that I need you to cover me. If I ever needed grace it’s now.” And the bridge states: “In every joy and pain, whatever comes my way, God I need your grace.”

On this night, just one year ago, was one of the biggest moments where I found myself in desperate need of grace…

It was March 1st, 2013 and it was a Friday just like any other; I woke up, went to work and came home between 9:30-10 that night. My usual routine once I got home was to catch up with the family and then go to bed, but this wasn’t any other night. I remember walking into the bedroom and seeing mom sitting on the edge of the bed. Immediately, I knew something was wrong. After a brief discussion we had determined that mom needed to be taken to the Emergency Room. If I ever needed grace, it’s now.

Fear doesn’t seem strong enough to describe what I felt as we got in the car and drove to the hospital. Just 9 months earlier, my dad was rushed to the Emergency Room…he never returned home. Terror might be more accurate. I remember thinking/praying/pleading, “God, please, not another one.”  If I ever needed grace, it’s now

Somewhere between 10:00-11 we had arrived and signed into the ER at AnaheimRegionalMedicalCenter. We waited a while before they took us back. They started their work up; vitals, blood work, a thousand questions, and a CT scan. Then, we waited some more. A couple hours later the ER doctor came to speak with us. She started discussing some of the test results, and then she made the statement that I can still hear so clearly: “The scan also shows a large mass on your ovary that could be indicative of Ovarian Cancer.” I know that she said other stuff but my memory of everything gets a little foggy after that. Somewhere in the early hours of the morning mom was admitted so that further tests could be done. If I ever needed grace, it’s now

A year ago, cancer was a word that I didn’t even want to think, let alone say, because it scared me so much. Over the course of the last year, for several months, it became a part of my daily vocabulary. It is my intention and heart’s desire to write our whole story of all that happened since March 1st of last year and begin sharing it, but for tonight, what I really want to share with you is this:

A year ago, my life was intact. In one night, with one word, all of that changed. This last year had so many days and nights that were complete hell and I didn’t think I’d ever see the light of day again. It also had so many days that brought successes and miracles I’d never thought I’d see with my own eyes. I don’t ever want to live in fear of all that could happen. And I have to be honest with you, after losing my dad and my mom getting sick, sometimes I’m tempted to live in that fear, but what I know now that I didn’t know a year ago is that whatever may come God’s grace really is sufficient. Those used to be just words to me; something nice people say when you’re going through a difficult time. It’s a nice idea, but now I have experienced its truth. It’s not that I don’t have fear, because I do, but I do have the understanding of how little there really is to fear when you have the unconditional love and unending grace of the Creator of the universe. None of us know what tomorrow will bring or when that night that changes everything will come. I want to encourage you, don’t live in fear of those moments, instead be present in the one you have right now, whatever it is. Be present with the ones you love, tell them that you love them, don’t be too busy to stop and hug them. Don’t let busyness be the reason you miss all the little moments.

I really wish I had the words to describe the gratitude I feel tonight. It’s hard to look back at some of the things that have happened because those wounds are still fresh and tender, but if I’m completely honest with myself, and with you, the truth is this: A year ago, I really feared, and often believed that my mom wouldn’t be here right now. And while I would much rather be sitting with her talking or watching a movie, I did just get off the phone with her a little bit ago. While I can’t describe so many things that I feel right now, I can choose one word to describe the last year… miracle.

It’s a miracle my mom is alive.

It’s a miracle that Stage IV Cancer didn’t kill her.

It’s a miracle that we all still have [most] of our sanity..

It’s a miracle that rather than bitterness over the bad things that have happened…

We choose joy.

We choose gratitude.

We choose life.

We choose to embrace our miracle.

It’s been quite a year. A year that we would not have survived had it not been for the generous, infinite supply of God’s grace in our lives. Mom ended up with some of the best doctors in their field, despite not working, there was never a physical or financial need that was not met, regardless of how lonely it felt that was not a single moment we were without the constant love, prayers, and support of countless friends and family. Every moment we needed grace, it was there. Most of the last year was spent in hospitals. It had a lot of sleepless nights. In one year my mom was diagnosed, hospitalized, lost her ability to walk, regained her ability to walk, underwent chemotherapy and major surgery, and is now cancer free! And so much more…

Quite a year indeed.

We’ve come a long way 😉

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by lesliedanielle87

Going Home

It has been 130 days since I first brought mom to the Emergency Room here at UCI. 62 of those days have been spent living here in the hospital. It is really bizarre to look back at all that has happened, a lifetime’s worth of ups and downs in only 130 days.

As I reflect back on those early days of the first hospitalization here I remember how scared I was. This place felt so huge and I was overwhelmingly aware of how inept I felt to walk the path that had been set before me. This hospital (and all that being here represented) was daunting and I felt so very small. I remember feeling like this place was a big, scary monster that was just gonna eat me up. Little did I know that these walls would be home and that some of the most defining moments of my life would take place here…

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Some of the scariest conversations and realizations I’ve ever experienced happened in these hospital rooms.

Some of the most difficult phone calls I have ever had to make happened in these waiting areas.

I would pace these hallways, desperately trying to make sense of it all.

I watched my mom go from being sick to being in critical condition more than once.

I’ve lived in 11 different rooms here.

This place will always hold some of the scariest moments of my life, but in the middle of it all, if only out of necessity, it has become a type of home. Doctors that started out strangers have become family; we have celebrated everything from birthdays and holidays to the small successes on mom’s road to recovery.

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I have lived here.

I have cried here.

I have laughed here.

I have learned here.

I have grown here.

I have believed here.

I have doubted here.

I have loved here.

I have truly lived here.

A place that I thought might eat me up turned out to be a place that grew me up.

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Mom’s road to recovery is not completely finished yet and I can’t guarantee that we won’t be back here at some point, but today we walk out of here together. At the time they originally wanted to do mom’s surgery, the truth is, they didn’t believe she would survive it. Today we walk out of here together having both survived and the gratitude I feel in my heart at this fact is overwhelming. There is still some fighting ahead but we walk out of here with life on the visible horizon before us…

Days and nights I feared would never end, have ended.

Things I thought we wouldn’t survive, we have survived.

And life I feared we’d never get to live can now be lived.

That is  the evidence of God’s amazing grace in our lives and it’s the story I hope and pray my life will continue to tell.

by lesliedanielle87

With A Full Heart…

It is hard to put into words all that I feel in my heart tonight, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try so here it goes…

In the early hours of this morning as we were at home preparing to make the trip here to the hospital for mom’s surgery, the fear and anxiety were tangible. And while it may seem contradictory, peace and faith were just as present. I saw it in my mom’s eyes, her eyes spoke what we all felt on different levels; “Is this really gonna be okay?”

Mom, Daniel, and I early this morning before heading to this hospital

Mom, Daniel, and I early this morning before heading to this hospital

 We got to the hospital, got her all checked in and then we waited. When they called her back to pre-op, I was relieved to find out that I could go and be with her until they wheeled her off to the Operating Room. The fear and nervousness were still evident, but they were now accompanied by a really strange exhilaration and excitement. The last 6 months had been leading up to this moment. There was both peace and anxiety as we said our “see you soons” and off she went.

 When we had first gone to pre-op, none of the family had arrived yet, but by the time I came out after they took mom to the OR I walked out into the arms of some of the greatest people in my world. And then we sat and we waited…

Entrance to the UCI Surgical Procedure Waiting Area where we spent most of the day.

Entrance to the UCI Surgical Procedure Waiting Area where we spent most of the day.

I was much more at ease than I thought I would be overall, but there were those moments when fear and doubt would try to creep in. And with the love of those around me, and all the people that have walked with us in prayer, I was quickly reminded of all that God has already brought us through and peace would return.

 When we first checked in, they gave me this pager so that they could get a hold of me if they needed to, and to keep me updated throughout the day. To say I was attached to it would be an understatement. I was downstairs just about to head back up to the waiting area when my pager went off; panic and fear kicked in as I ran up the stairs and saw our doctor standing in the waiting area. I made my way to him as quickly as I could and then we went into the consult room. Now, this is the attending doctor on my mom’s oncology team and he is one of the best in his field, but he is on the serious side and so I had to really listen to his words carefully. I tried to catch my breath from running up the stairs and back to the waiting area as he began. His expression was not indicative of whether or not this was good news so I did my best to really focus in on what he was saying. And it slowly began to register. “We successfully removed the tumors and completed everything else we intended to do, there were no surprises, she didn’t lose much blood and when I left they were just finishing up the closing process. In no way can this surgery be curative, but with some more chemotherapy, if she continues to respond as well as she already has, it’s possible she will be feeling good for a long time. The surgery went as well as we could have hoped.”

 Shaking and overwhelmed and trying to process everything I had just been told, I got to go back out into the waiting room and tell everyone else the good news. My heart was relieved, overjoyed and anxious as I had to wait in anticipation for the moment they would let us see her in recovery. About an hour or so later, Daniel and I were able to go back and see her. I don’t think there are words to describe what I felt seeing her. Her eyes and smile lit up when she saw us and it’s safe to say she saw the same thing in ours. Since she hadn’t been awake for very long, she hadn’t heard the news yet. We explained to her that surgery was successful and that they got everything, in disbelief she said “Really?” We said “Yes, mom, you did it.” And immediately she said “Thank you Jesus.” That’s my mom.

 Now I’m sitting here as we prepare to settle in for the night and I can’t stop looking at her. I cannot possibly express how grateful I am tonight to be able to look over and see her, though in pain, still focused on the fight. Still here with us…because He is with us. A little bit ago mom and I were talking about how on this side of surgery we wonder what we were so afraid of, but the reality is that it was really big, scary and a huge risk. It was a big deal. And I told her how I wonder if it had to be big because only in a moment like that would choosing to trust Him be a true test of faith. Though, often times, still with doubt and worry, because of her strength and example we made the decision to trust and surrender to Him and His will. Tonight I sit here in awe of the remarkable woman I get to call mom and I cannot thank Him enough for His goodness and His grace.

 Friends and Family, I have been so blown away by your love and support; you all have been so amazing. We are humbled and indescribably grateful for all that have stood with us in prayer as we have walked this road. I pray that His light and love surround you tonight, and always. Please know that I pray for you and thank God for you.

 With unending love and gratitude,

Leslie Danielle