"I'm Worn"

As many of you know, the past few months have been quite a difficult time for me, regarding my health.  Most of you know that something big is going on, but few of you know exactly what that is.  There's a reason for that, and I hope you'll understand what it is once you're done reading this post.  Despite my vagueness and lack of details, I sincerely appreciate all of the thoughts, prayers, love and genuine concern that has been shown to me and my family.  It's been difficult to keep this to myself, because well frankly I'm just not a very private person.  I love my life and I want to share it with friends, family and strangers alike.  That's just my personality and the way I've always been.  Until now, when I am facing the greatest challenge of my life, thus far.  

I've been drafting this post for almost an entire week now, trying to figure out how much I'm willing to share and how to word it all in a way that accurately relays the gravity of the situation, yet doesn't make me appear dramatic or as if I'm just seeking pity.  Rest assured, I do NOT want pity.  Even with what I'm going through, I am far better off than many people in this world.  If you're looking for something to offer me, I would ask for your prayers.  Prayers will get me a lot further than pity will, and I think we all know that! 

  Truthfully, I have at times thought it best just to continue keeping all of this amongst my closest friends and family and not laying it all out there for the world to read.  That's basically what I've done for the past four months.  But as I said, that's just not my personality and it's not working for me.  While I'm not willing to share every last detail, I do feel that I need to get these feelings off my mind.  If for no other reason than the fact that this blog serves as a memoir.  My sole purpose in keeping it up is so that someday long after I'm gone, my children and grandchildren will look back on it and remember times past---both the good times and the bad times.  It wouldn't be an accurate depiction of our lives if I only included the happy memories.  Mostly, though, I have held back for fear of judgment.....fear of what people will think and how they will treat me as a result of what I share.  That's why I've carefully and cautiously stewed over this single post for so many days, drafting and redrafting, deleting and adding, until it was exactly how I wanted it.  As we all know, once it's out there, there's no taking it back.  So here goes nothing................

Pretty much all of you know that I have been battling severe Crohn's disease for the past 7 years.  I was diagnosed in 2006, less than a year after graduating college and just a few months prior to meeting Matthew.  Literally, the disease came out of nowhere.  I had been healthy my entire life and then boom, there I was facing a chronic illness for which there is no cure.  Let me repeat that....NO CURE.  Crohn's is an autoimmune disorder in which your own body attacks good, healthy organs and tissues rather than fighting off the germs and "bad" things that it's supposed to protect you from.  It's like your own immune system thinks your organs are its worst enemy and in turn, does everything in its power to destroy them slowly.  There are many autoimmune disorders out there besides Crohn's----Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis just to name a few.  Since there is no cure, the only thing that can be done is to manage it as best you can.  In the case of Crohn's, the immune system is attacking my digestive tract, causing severe inflammation and pain throughout my large intestine.  Some of the side effects are severe pain, weight loss, dehydration, malnutrition, fatigue, osteoporosis and even death---all of which I have experienced (with the exception of death) over the past 7 years.  I have been so so sick for the past few years that I can't even remember what it feels like to be healthy.  I can't even remember what my life was like before this evil disease came in and took over not only my body, but my LIFE.  It has kept me from doing so many things I love and has nearly brought me to my death bed on many occasions.  I always say, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy and that's the truth!  It's horrible.

As I slowly became very ill with Crohn's, the doctors noticed that something strange was also going on with my liver.  As it turned out, my immune system was also attacking my liver, killing it slowly.  So after being perfectly healthy my entire life, at 23 years old I was being told my body was attempting to kill me from the inside out, by destroying not only my digestive tract, but also my liver.  I became somewhat of a medical mystery amongst the doctors in Tallahassee and I was soon sent off to Shands to meet with some of the country's best doctors and specialists.  I became a case study (never a good thing!) and they sent my reports and my pathology all over the US for various doctors to study and try and find out what caused this and how to stop it.  In doing so, I was pretty matter-of-factly told that in the future I would likely need a new liver, in the form of a transplant.  Obviously this came as a shock to me, but at 23 years old I thought to myself "we will cross that bridge when we get there, many years down the road".  Nobody could really tell me how long it would be, but everyone knew in the backs of our minds that it would someday be a reality.

Beginning in April of 2010, when I was just 12 weeks pregnant with my sweet Kyndall, I started getting blockages in the tiny bile ducts of my liver.  They caused me GREAT pain and immediately I would need a form of surgery called an ERCP to relieve the blockage.  This happened three times from April of 2010 until November of 2012.  This past November when they went in for the third time, they realized that this type of procedure was no longer going to work for me.  My bile ducts are so damaged and scarred that there is no other option but to perform a liver transplant.  When I awoke that day and they greeted me with the news, I was shocked.  I had no idea this would become a reality so soon.  I thought I had a good 20 or 30 years before I faced any kind of transplant.  The news sunk in and over the next few weeks I talked extensively with my doctors about what our plan of action would be.  They explained that we are just basically waiting for my liver to slowly give out.  Apparently, it will become quite obvious when that time arrives.  In the words of the doctor, I will "become very sick".  I will begin to look jaundiced and I'll show sure signs of liver failure.  At that time, they will put me on a list and "rank" me according to my need.  Once a liver comes available, they will proceed with the transplant.  Many people (including myself) inquired about a live donor, where a living person who is determined to be a good match, donates a portion of their liver to me.  The liver is the only organ that will regenerate itself, in case you didn't know.  However, for many reasons this type of transplant is rarely carried out.  Most importantly, because you are putting two peoples' lives at great risk, rather than just one.

So, upon being faced with this big news, I took it in stride and just sort of put it in the back of my mind.  Because my liver doesn't cause me pain on a regular basis, I sort of just forgot about it.  I figured dwelling on it wouldn't make me feel any better so I resolved to just not think about it.  I was pretty open with this news and shared it with many of you, because in my mind it wasn't a very personal issue.  Plus, I wanted all the prayers  I could get to extend the life of my liver as long as possible!  The thought of a major surgery isn't one that sets very well with me.

Later that same month (this past November) I also had my yearly colonoscopy.  Although the average person isn't required to get one until they're 50 (and only every 10 years following), Crohn's patients must have one every year, sometimes twice a year.  Crohn's patients are at a much, much greater risk of developing colon cancer so it's necessary to keep a close watch on things by scoping as often as needed.  They're no big deal at all and I'm not embarrassed anymore to tell people when I'm having them done.  It's just part of having this disease and it goes with the territory.  The nature of the beast, so to speak.  I must've had about 20 by now, so I'm an old pro.  =)

As always, it was several days before I had my follow- up with my GI doctor to go over the results of my scope.  In the meantime, Matthew and I found out we would be moving to Tennessee at the beginning of January for a job promotion that he accepted.  We had just one month to prepare, but we were excited and thankful for the opportunity!  My follow-up appointment also served as my very last visit with my GI doctor, as I would be moving in just a matter of a few weeks.  Honestly, I grieved over losing my doctors at the Medical University of South Carolina more than I grieved over any part of our move.  Until you have a chronic illness and your life literally depends on doctors and nurses, you just can't understand what that bond is like.  Over the past four years, they had become much more than medical personnel to me---they were FAMILY.  They took care of me, kept me alive, helped me regain my health and even assisted me in carrying a healthy, thriving baby girl during some of my sickest months.  So leaving them behind only to have to establish new relationships and new trusts was a BIG thing.  I knew this last appointment would be an emotional one, but I had no idea just how emotional it would be.

My doctor came in, as he always does, with a smile on his face.  He greeted Kyndall (whom he called his miracle baby, due in part to his help in getting her safely into this world) and we exchanged pleasantries.  Then, his face turned serious and he said "we need to talk".  A feeling of complete terror came over me and I knew this wasn't going to be good.  In the past, these follow-up appointments usually consisted of him showing me pictures from the scope, telling me how things looked, and possibly recommending a new series of medications.  Never were they shocking or of any surprise.  "More inflammation, new meds, blah blah blah."  However, this day was much different.  

"During your scope I found some areas of dysplasia", he began "and things are not good".  He asked me if I knew what dysplasia meant and I nodded yes.  Perhaps my timid nod wasn't enough to convince him, so he went on to explain exactly what dysplasia meant, and more specifically what it meant for me.  He explained that the cells in my large intestine were beginning to change at a rapid and alarming pace, which was of great concern to him.  I had never seen him look so serious in the 4 years that he had been taking care of me.  I knew just by his gestures alone that he was about to deliver some heavy news.  "You have a form of cancer developing", he said softly.  The world stopped.  Did he really just say the "c word"??  Immediately my eyes welled up with tears and I knew where this conversation was going.  I honestly can't remember what he said next but he continued to reinforce the gravity of the situation and how very concerning this was to him.  The words he said next are the very words that every Crohn's patient dreads, from the moment they're first diagnosed.  "We really have no choice but to remove your entire large intestine".  At that point I couldn't hold back the tears anymore and I just began sobbing.  I could see his mouth moving but I couldn't even hear the words he was saying over the screaming in my mind.  How could this be??  Just last year things were "ok" and in all honesty, I had been feeling better than ever!  How could things have gotten so bad, so fast?  He explained that this is the very reason why it's so important for Crohn's patients to get their yearly scopes.  Skipping even one year can mean the difference in life and death.  Thankfully, I had not skipped any, so he was hopeful that with this surgery all would be well.

Once I gathered my thoughts and was able to speak, I began asking questions.  He told me that this cancer would surely take my life if I didn't elect to have the surgery.  He said those words with all of the certainty and sincerity that any doctor could possibly offer.  He was sure of this and I trusted him.  Why would he lie to me?  I said "so you're saying if I don't have this surgery, I'll probably die from the cancer in 20 or so years?"  His eyes about popped out of his head and he exclaimed "NO!"  "If you don't have this surgery, this cancer will certainly take your life in the next two or three years, and I'm absolutely sure of that."  WOW.  The hits just kept on coming.  So basically what he was telling me was that I really had no choice----have the surgery to remove my entire large intestine, or don't have the surgery and face a certain death in the very near future.  What kind of choice is that??  I also asked him how soon I would need the surgery, to which he replied, "immediately, like in the next couple of months".  What?!  I was so not prepared for this.  I was a puddle of tears by this point but I somehow got the words out "but I'm moving to Tennessee in a few weeks".  He told me that he would immediately begin the process of setting me up with a new doctor at Vanderbilt (one that he actually knows personally from his residency---Such a God thing!) and that they would be speaking over the phone specifically about my case.  There was to be no waiting around, this was serious business.  

We talked some more and I cried some more.  Kyndall was there and Matthew was not.  I wasn't prepared for this news.  Had I known what life changing words I was going to hear that day, I would've surely left my toddler at home, away from the drama and brought along my husband for moral support.  But there I was, receiving this news and feeling like I had just walked into someone else's life---someone else's nightmare.  The doctor was so sweet and so sympathetic and tried to make me feel better by telling me that having this procedure would ultimately cure me of Crohn's disease---I would no longer live in daily pain or have to endure all of the terrible side effects that come along with it.  Having this done would free me of the chains that have bound me for the past seven years, since my diagnosis.  I would have my life back.  For a second, these words were like sweet music to my ears.  I imagined living like I used to live and feeling like I used to feel.  But really, I can't even remember what that was like and nobody in their right mind would willingly give in to such a drastic, life-changing surgery simply to return to a life you no longer know.  Sad as it is, I've become accustomed to this new way of life and I've figured out how to make the best of it.  Having this surgery would surely be the worst decision I could ever make----but then again, what choice do I really have?

I must've sat there and cried and asked questions through my tears and sobs for a good thirty minutes.  He was gracious enough to answer every single one of them and did his best to make me feel better about the situation, while still reminding me of just how serious this issue is.  We talked about the surgery and some of the details of it.  He drew pictures on the tissue paper covering the exam table and at one point I had to turn my head, for fear I would vomit just by looking at his scribbles and detailed descriptions of what was to come.  Each time I thought I was out of tears, somehow more appeared and they washed over my face like a flood.  Kyndall began to take notice and said with a very concerned look "Mommy sad??"  More tears.

Once he was done, the doctor gave me a hug, bid me one final goodbye, and told me he would be praying for me.  He always said this as he left the room, but this time he said it with a much deeper sincerity.  As if just saying goodbye to him for the last time wasn't difficult enough, now I was saying goodbye and leaving him behind---the very man who had taken such great care of me for the past four years.  I wanted to forget about moving to Tennessee, just for the simple fact that I needed the comfort of knowing Dr. C would be by my side and on my team for this life-changing journey I was about to embark on.  But that couldn't happen.  I was losing him and would be forced to start over with someone new, with the fresh knowledge of my most recent news still tender on my heart.  

He told me to wait for the nurse to come in and dismiss me, so I did.  I waited.....and waited....and waited.  As I waited in the quiet, alone with Kyndall, I began to get more and more upset.  Finally, I opened the door, pushed Kyndall's stroller into the hall and found my way to the receptionist's desk.  Thankfully, she too had become more like a friend to me over the past few years and she immediately came running from behind the counter to embrace me.  I told her of the news I had just received and how I just needed to go.  "He told me to wait....but I can't wait.....I just need to go.....I need to go......I need to leave and call my husband...."  Of course, she told me to leave immediately and not to worry with the details of the usual check out process.  As I pushed Kyndall's stroller through the very hospital that had become like a second home to me, I couldn't help but think how this was NOT the way I wanted this to end.  This is NOT how I want to remember my last visit to my beloved Dr. C's office.  I just felt so alone and truly like this was some kind of nightmare I had accidentally stumbled into.

I waited until I got to the parking deck to call Matthew.  I sat in the car and sobbed to him as I recounted what had just happened.  Immediately, he said "I'm coming home......I'm leaving work for the day and I'm coming home...." It was only about noon by this time, and this was not typical of him, so I was relieved to know that he truly understood how very important this was and how much I needed him.  I had gotten pretty worked up again in talking to him, so I drove a few miles before making my next most important call, a call to my Mom.  I composed myself so that when she answered the phone, she wouldn't immediately know anything was wrong.  "Hey", I said....."what are you doing?"  She said "I'm at lunch, what are you doing?"  I casually said "Oh I'm just leaving my doctor's appointment and wanted to tell you how my last visit went".  "Just call me when you're done eating lunch and you get in your car to head back to work".  "Ok!", she said, not having a clue the wave of emotions that I was holding back with all my might.  

A few minutes later, my phone rang and it was her.  I started out completely composed and then it just all spilled out, in the form of a crying scream......."They found the early stages of cancer and I need surgery to remove my large intestine.....soon!!!"  Immediately, she began crying uncontrollably right along with me and she yelled "nooooooooooo!!!!"  We both just screamed and cried together as the news sank in for both of us.  I'll never forget that moment, though I really wish I could.  

I gave her as many details as I could remember and asked her to please tell my Dad and my sister for me---I just didn't think I could go through the emotions of recalling the news two more times.  I was emotionally drained and literally sick to my stomach by this point. 

Later that day I shared the news with a few of my very close friends.  By that time I had no more tears left in me and I had almost become numb to the news.  It's like I knew it in my head but I wasn't truly accepting it in my heart.  But just like now, I felt like I needed to share it with them.  I craved their support, their feedback and their uplifting words.  

As the next few days passed, things really began to hit me.  I realized that in less than a month's time, I had been dealt two huge blows---first, realizing I would be experiencing liver failure in the very near future, and second, being told that I have the early stages of cancer which are so incredibly concerning to the doctors and pathologists that they are recommending one of the most radical and life-changing forms of surgery available.  I think God knew what he was doing, placing all of this on me at just the right time.  With a big move across the country on the horizon, I really didn't have time to dwell on it or sit and ponder it, allowing it to fester in my mind and heart.  There were things to do (LOTS of things!), people to see (friends to say goodbye to), and places to go (traveling home for Christmas!).  Our lives were more chaotic than they've ever been as we frantically arranged a moving company, traveled to Jackson to find a home, and tried to enjoy Christmas as much as we possibly could.  Though it was always in the back of my mind and I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it each and every day......It definitely wasn't on the forefront.  I think I just subconsciously put myself into auto pilot, doing what had to be done to get this move out of the way and focusing on the greater tasks at hand.  Like I said, looking back I think this was a blessing in disguise.  There was no allowance for me to crawl up in my bed, pull the covers over my head and cry day in and day out......though that's what I wanted to do.  But I learned the hard way that the world doesn't stop for my broken heart.  Life goes on.

Fast forward to now, and here we are four months later.  Though my doctor in SC did everything he could to have me seen sooner, my first appointment with my new GI doctor at Vanderbilt wasn't until March 19th.  My parents came up to help with Kyndall, as you may remember from my blog a few weeks ago.  Matthew and I traveled two hours to Nashville for our very first (of many) visits to Vanderbilt University Medical Center.  I met my new GI doctor and I felt as if I was in very good hands.  He spoke of my previous doctor and how they did in fact know each other and we talked about what a small world it is.  Just knowing that Dr. C was an acquaintance of my new Dr. S, brought me great comfort.  

As I expected, he requested that I have a follow up colonoscopy to the one I'd just had in December.  As I had learned, things can change quickly and three months had already passed since Dr. C found the areas of great concern.  We scheduled my scope for this past Monday, April 8th.  My mother-in-law flew up to help with Kyndall and Matthew and I traveled to Nashville again on Monday morning to have the procedure done.  

When I awoke and was able to speak with the doctor, the first thing I asked was "did things look better??"  Truly, I had hoped and believed for a miracle---a complete healing.  I knew this was a possibility and I prayed that it would be a reality.  As I like to say, I hoped for the best but was prepared for the worst.  He hung his head as he gave me the news that not only did things still look bad, but they actually looked worse.  Things are spreading at an alarming rate and I have a pre-cancerous area that is 55 cm long which has developed since my scope in November.  Yikes.  He also explained that one particular area was so strictured that he couldn't even pass a pediatric scope through it.  Obviously, that's also new since November.  It just goes to show how quickly things can change and what an important factor time is when you're dealing with cancer of any kind.  A few months can make all the difference in the world.  Also, going back to my liver issues, he explained that performing this drastic of a surgery will be a very delicate balancing act in terms of not propelling my already dying liver into even quicker failure.  He told me that himself, the surgeon and my new liver doctor will be in constant communication over the next few weeks, devising a plan for how to go about this without causing me any extra harm or putting my life in any more danger than it already is. 

We talked some more about his findings and he explained to me that he was in total agreement with my previous doctor that the only option is to perform surgery.  I was incredibly disappointed to hear this news, as I was truly hoping and believing that this wouldn't be necessary after all.  Just like Dr. C, he is very concerned and feels there really is no other option at this point.  He scheduled a consultation with a surgeon, which is tomorrow (well, really I guess it's today since technically already Monday!) I'll go back to Nashville AGAIN in the morning for an in-depth consult with the surgeon who will be performing this surgery in the next few weeks.  I am going armed with an entire notebook full of questions, concerns and feelings about the operation itself as well as what the future would hold for me and what my life will be like post-surgery.  

This past Saturday, I traveled to Nashville AGAIN (I think I've been over and back 6 times in less than two weeks!) to have a CT scan done of that area that was constricted.  No surgeon is going to go in and do major surgery without seeing what he's dealing with and I guess a CT scan is the next best way to do that besides a scope.  Also, they scanned my liver so that my new liver doctor will have accurate, up-to-date information about the status of that issue.  Although the liver issue has definitely taken a back seat (in my mind anyway) to the cancer issue, it's still a very important part of this whole process.  I'm nervous at the possibility of making things worse for my liver in the process of trying make things better otherwise.  Ugggh, have I mentioned I HATE autoimmune diseases?!?!

So, here we are on the eve of my consultation with a surgeon and understandably, I can't sleep.  Tomorrow is such a big day.  It's my opportunity to truly educate myself about what's going to happen and what I should expect out of all of this.  I keep going back and forth between whether or not I want to know all of the details or whether the phrase "ignorance is bliss" will work better for this situation.  I'm a person that likes to be in control and needs to know what's going to happen and what to expect, but in this case I'm afraid it will only make the agony of the next few weeks leading up to the surgery worse for me.  It's like what I don't know can't hurt me.  Do I really want to know all of those details, being the squeamish person that I am?  I've already made the mistake of googling the surgery and what I found only strengthened my fears, reservations and nearly sent me into a full blown panic attack.  I am NOT ready for this.  Not at all.

Admitting that I'm not ready for this leads me to the next thing I want to share.  Many of you have remarked how "brave, strong, and courageous" I am.  While I appreciate those compliments, I must ask you to please not mistake my "strength" for anything but a mere glimmer of  what God can do in your life during times of trouble.  I am TERRIFIED of what's to come----both in the near future and in the distant future.  I am SAD that this is the way my life has turned out and I'm ANGRY that this has happened to me.  I feel like a horrible person admitting all of those things, but I do it so that you can see that I'm experiencing all of the same emotions that any normal person would.  I don't have some super human strength.  I'm just dealing with it the best way I know how, which is to face it head on, believing that the Lord Himself is going to carry me through.  I have faith that He has this all under control and I rest in the knowledge that He has a plan that's far greater than anything I could ever imagine.  I wish I knew what that plan was and how this whole mess fits into it, but I guarantee you it's a wonderful one!!  My life has been pretty peachy up until now and He's given me more than I could ever ask or imagine in terms of blessings.  I've never had to walk through hard times where I really had to depend on the Lord for His strength and His peace.  I've watched others do it time and time again and I've marveled at them from afar.  Now, here I am facing my own set of challenges and I've never been so terrified of anything in my entire life.  But I figure I have two choices----I can either walk through this with as much grace and faith and dignity as the Lord will provide, or I can run screaming the other way, making myself and everyone around me miserable.  I decided right away that I would make a conscious effort to live out the first choice, and in doing so, bring glory and honor to the Lord.  As they say, "it is what it is".  What will I possibly gain by continuing to live a bitter life, full of frustration, sadness and fear?  Nothing!  I'm not saying these emotions don't creep into my mind  regularly, because they do......believe me they DO!  On a daily basis, they DO!  But that's when I remember one of my favorite passages of scripture found in Jeremiah 29:11....."For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord.  Plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you a hope and a future."  God doesn't desire to harm me, he LOVES me and wants the best for me!  I can only imagine that what lies on the other side of this great trial must be something wonderful and glorious and beyond anything I could imagine!  I know the reward for my suffering will be great, even if it's not until I get to Heaven!

So please, do not mistake the emotions that I exhibit for anything but a strong faith in the Lord himself.  Remember, I'm absolutely terrified and I'm not afraid to admit it!  I recently came across this quote and I have officially taken it for my own.  It's so fitting for this season of my life.  Think about it.......

"Courage doesn't come from an absence of fear, but an abundance of faith."

To say I'm "courageous" does not mean I'm not also fearful.....but my faith trumps that fear and carries me through with a sense of peace that I can't even explain.  

So, there you have it.  I've laid it all out there and now my "secret" is exposed and I'm feeling pretty vulnerable, but also pretty relieved.  Now you know.  Now you can pray more specifically.  And, maybe.....just maybe there is someone out there who has gone through this or is currently going through this who can encourage me and I can in turn encourage them.  I don't want all of this to be for naught.  Surely, something good will come of it and perhaps that will only come if I share my testimony with others.  A friend recently told me that by keeping this journey a secret, I'm robbing God of the glory when He does something great.....which He will!  How can I share His goodness with you if I haven't shared the depths of despair He's bringing me through in the process?  

In case you're totally lost or you just quit reading out of boredom, here's my life in a nutshell : I am heading towards liver failure and at the same time facing the early stages of colon cancer.  Without major medical intervention in the form of surgery to remove my large intestine, I will surely face an uncertain future.  The doctors have assured me (as much as they can) that having this surgery will eliminate the need for any future intervention as far as the cancer goes.  Unless, of course it has already spread and we don't yet know about it.  But we'll cross that bridge when (and IF!) we ever get there.   In the meantime, I will continue to believe that the Lord is going to do something great and mighty through all of this.  He's going to turn my test into a testimony and my trial into a triumph!  

As always, I covet your prayers and I crave your love and support.  I truly couldn't imagine facing something like this without the wonderful support of my friends and family.  Even without specific details, so many of you have already stepped up and showed me love like none other and given me the support I need, despite being in the dark about the specifics.  I realize there are just some truly nosey people out there, but I can't judge them for their actions.  Only they know their heart and I can only pray that their nosiness will turn to true concern after they read this.  Truly, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU for your prayers, your messages, your calls, texts, cards, gifts, and encouraging words.  It's been so comforting to see the outpouring of love and support that I've already received, and I'm only ankle deep at this point.  I am none of the things you say I am, but I appreciate the compliments am humbled by them to say the least.  Though I can't accept them, they are definitely something to strive for. 

Please continue to keep our little family in your prayers.  I have worried myself over and over about how this will affect all of our lives, but specifically my most precious gift, my sweet baby girl.  Will she even understand what's going on?  Will she remember this?  So far she just knows that Mommy is sick and has to go to the doctor a lot.  She is so smart and so in tune with her emotions that I am trying my best to shield her from any sense of fear or anxiety that she might pick up on from me.  I don't want her precious, fleeting childhood years to be tainted and overshadowed by this awful circumstance.  May she never even realize the events that are taking place around her---that will be my prayer!

Also, please don't forget about Matthew.  It's hard enough watching your spouse go through something like this, but with the added stresses of a new job and finding the balance between work and family needs, I can imagine it's a daunting task.  He has a lot on his shoulders right now as he takes care of me but also maintains his responsibilities to his job and his employees.  I am so thankful that tomorrow, he will be going with me to my surgery consultation.  Until just a few days ago I thought I would be going alone.  That is, until the Lord intervened and one of his "big bosses" for the region got wind of what was going on with me and practically forbid him from showing up to work tomorrow.  He told Matthew that "family comes first" and that he needed to "be there for his wife".  He'll probably never know what great comfort those words were to both of us!  Such an answer to prayer to work for a company that truly puts family first.  

And lastly, don't forget my parents and our other extended family.  It's very hard being so far away from them, but especially in times of need.  Not just practically, but also emotionally.  I can't imagine knowing that Kyndall was going through something like this, yet I was 10 hours away, unable to be there with her for appointments, procedures, etc.  I honestly think sometimes these situations are harder on the family members who have to stand by and watch than it is on the patient themselves.  I'll be ok, and I know that.....but to relay those same feelings to my extended family is difficult.  They just want to "fix" it, which is only a natural reaction.  It's far more agonizing watching someone you love suffer than it is to be the one suffering.  It's a helpless feeling.  Thankfully, when I do have surgery, they have all made arrangements to be here with me not only to help me, but also to take care of Kyndall.  I've been told it will take an army just to get me back on my feet and functioning normally again, so I will be depending on them greatly for their help once this all takes place.  

If you're still reading (and I hope you are!), please take just a few more minutes and listen to this song.  It's one that I haven't been able to get out of my mind this past week, as the reality of all this finally sank in and I thought about the words I wanted to share with all of you.  This song truly is the cry of my heart right now.  Hence, the title of this blog post.

Thank you, thank you, thank you again for your prayers.  Keep 'em coming!!!!  It's now nearly 2:30 a.m. and I have a very important day ahead of me.  I will end by saying that I apologize for this post being a long time coming, but hopefully you now understand why there was no simple explanation and why I had (and still have) reservations about how much I'm willing to share.  I pray that you will love me through it, come what may!

Love to each of you!!!

XOXO