Remember Me

This is a post I've been trying to write for so long. I can't ever seem to get the words to come out right though. So I ignore them and some how the words bubble back into my head. I decided it was time to write them down even if they only sound right to me. It's time.

I'm coming to a close on the treatment side of my melanoma. No one knows how scary this is for me. I will then head to a world of scans and waiting. No one knows how scary the scans and waiting are. Even scarier than treatment.

When I'm doing treatment, I'm DOING something. Being proactive. When that's done... I spend the rest of my life waiting for that phone call I never want to come. Waiting for melanoma to show its ugly head again. For it to turn everything around all over again.

You can't explain what that place does to your head to someone who's never been through it. It's a dark and lonely place and I don't want to be there.

I don't know how this is going to end. You don't know. No one knows. My biggest fear lives in my head and haunts my dreams. My biggest fear is not dying. It's that my children won't remember me.

My kids are all still pretty young. Will they remember the little things? Like how I told them they were beautiful every single day? How we would dance in the living room? How we would speak to each other in accents just for fun? Will they remember the dresses I bought them just because I couldn't stand to say no? How I loved more than anything their faces lighting up? Will they remember how I tried to make every holiday so special even when we had no money? How I kissed them on the forehead every night? How I told them they could be anything in the world? Will they remember the dinners, the nights spent by their beds when they were sick, how I brushed their hair from their eyes, how I hugged them every morning? How I loved them so, so much and sacrificed everything for their happiness?

Or will I be just a picture on a wall? Of a mom who was taken from them too soon? Someone they remember from stories but have no real memory of. Will I be her?

No, despite how this blog sounds this is not me admitting defeat. I'm not giving up, I still have hope. These are just very real fears that I have and needed to get out.

My fear that I will love my children so much and they will never remember. The hardest thing I've ever had to accept is that just because I gave birth to all three of my babies does not mean I'm guaranteed to raise them throughout this life. Seems pretty unfair. But I will trust in my Heavenly Father's plan and pray that these fears are only ever that... Fears.

Chariots of Fire

"In the Gospel of Jesus Christ you have help from both sides of the veil and you must never forget that. When disappointment and discouragement strike... You remember and never forget that if our eyes could be opened we would see horses and chariots of fire as far as the eye can see, riding at reckless speed to come to our protection." - Jeffrey R. Holland

What a comforting statement. I bawled buckets after reading this quote. Not only have I felt the strength of the words on paper, I've lived through them. Our family has been the recipients of such kindness and love that it could only come from one place. I believe without a doubt I am surrounded every moment by angels. Angels who are guiding me, comforting me, holding me during a sob fest and whispering silent encouragement through every treatment. I am never alone. And that brings so much joy to my soul.

I often think of my loved ones who have passed on when I'm in the hospital. How they must feel sorrow for the battle that I'm facing but so much joy because it's bringing me so much closer to my Heavenly Father. I'm sure in the Eternal perspective this trial seems so small.

When my heart feels heavy I remember how much I'm surrounded by that I can see and others that I can't and I find great comfort. I am so thankful for my beliefs that this life is not all there is. From now on I will try to remember during my bad days that I need not fear. I've got chariots of fire racing my way.

The Loss of My Hair

I knew losing my hair would be hard. I just didn't know how gut wrenching it would truly be. The loss of my hair for me signified the total acceptance that I have cancer. It was my outward show to the world that yes, I am sick with something that could potentially kill me.

I knew it was coming. My hair had turned dry and lost all shine. Every time I would move my head I would have piles of hair every where. Then it started to hurt. Which is not something I was expecting. But it felt like someone was stabbing my head. I went upstairs and grabbed the clippers. Told my husband it was time. He was nervous. Probably because I was sobbing hysterically and acting insane. I begged him to just do it. To get it off my head. He finally caved and I took turn throwing up with every pile of hair that showed up at my feet.

My poor husband. I can't imagine how he felt. He was so strong while I fell completely apart. When it was over I clung to him and told him how sorry I was over and over because I was now ugly. He looked me in the eyes and told me I was so beautiful. I've never loved him more than that moment.

I didn't look in the mirror for four days. It nearly killed me the first time I did. But I'm ok now. I know it's temporary and I will one day have hair again. But dang you cancer for being so crazy hard sometimes.

I am Brittany and I am not my hair. I am beautiful, caring, funny and courageous. Losing my hair has helped me dig deeper within myself. I am going to be just fine.

Gall bladder is taking a permanent vacay

Stepping off the emotional wreck train... I go back into the hospital on Monday to have my gall bladder removed. This is to hopefully prevent any repeat episodes in the future.

If all goes well I will resume my chemo the following Monday.

So here's to hoping for smooth sailing and all things working out as planned for a change.

On a side note... A huge thank you to my husband for being the amazing person he is and rolling with any punches thrown our way. He never breaks, does anything asked of him and worries about me every second. He's incredible.

Another huge thank you to Danny's family. For his mom who jumped in the car an came right away to help us with our kids yet again no questions asked. For his family who rearrange their days to come sit with me in the hospital so I'm not alone. For his sister who has watched our kids far more than should ever be expected or asked. I love you all. I have no clue what we would do without any of you. Thank you so much.

I'm tired...

I'm tired. Really, really tired. I just spent another 5 days in the hospital from pancreatitis and now that I'm finally home I can't believe how draining the hospital is. Every time I come out of there I feel more all things sick. It's exhausting.

Today was the first day I looked in the mirror and saw a sick person. My eyes looked sunken in, my skin was ghostly white and my hair has lost all its shine. Getting ready to fall out any day now I'm sure. It's so hard to look in the mirror and see a shell of the person you used to be. What's even worse is you feel that same way inside too. Socializing is getting harder and harder. I don't feel up to much. I have no desire to talk on the phone. So I just look in the mirror and think, "Who is this person? Is she temporary? Will I ever find the real me again?"

I'm tired of this battle already and I'm not even half way done. I spend way too much time longing for future days when I go from a cancer fighter to a cancer survivor. The road between those two is much bumpier than I had anticipated. More tears, more feeling lost, and more anxiety than I ever saw coming.

I am so sick of leaving my kids. I feel so guilty. It eats at me in my sleep. I feel like I'm over pleading in my prayers to just let me be a mom. Let me be here. I was sooo excited for my week of no treatment to spend with my kids and I landed myself in the hospital the whole time. Every day I was in there I thought of them. I would close my eyes and picture what we would be doing if I was home. I could hear their laughs and feel their tiny hands. And then I would open my eyes and stare at the wall. And instead hear the beeping of heart monitors and feel the medicines burning my veins. It was then I would get angry. I would wonder what I did to deserve this. Ask why me? Wonder why life couldn't be more fair and just let me be with my babies. Wonder how I got into this mess and wonder if I was being punished for some past bad deed.

I am a cancer fighter and I'm tired. I have good days and bad days. I'm not perfect. I don't pretend to be. I am so strong and so weak sometimes. I hurt. I cry. I laugh. I smile through the pain. I have moments of pure clarity and moments of agonizing despair. I am fighting a monster that I don't know if I will win. But I'm fighting. For my kids, my husband, my family, my friends and myself.

There will come a day when I'm on the other side of this beast and I will remember that it only hurt so hard while I was fighting because I had so much to lose. So I will not be ashamed of my tears anymore. They come from a desire to live for everything I have. And that is not a bad thing.