The "c" Word (Part One)

I had absolutely no way of knowing what the winds of change would blow in to my contented euphoria within the next short 48 hours...a gale force that made the possibility of moving to New Jersey meekly sigh in comparison.

What had already seemed to be a stormy summer, wherein the planned was repeatedly usurped by the urgent, was really only harmless preamble.

I asked, begged, that every possible outlier misconception could be true. A freak infection, paired with post alcohol induced cirrhosis. Even, as was kindly suggested (by someone for whom this WAS the case) rare liver "freckling".

I see now, in hindsight, that they knew on sight.

Let me back up a little...

This year I have been grappling with a diagnosis that has carried with it some unwanted change. I have Hashimoto's. It is an autoimmune disorder that wreaks havoc on the thyroid, which in turn affects every single cell of your body. It expresses itself in lovely ways that include excessive weight gain (and the inability to lose it), extreme fatigue, cystic acne, hair loss, mild to debilitating joint pain, brain fog and memory issues, hormonal fluctuations, and a myriad of other fun symptoms.

In February I finally met a doctor who listened to me and did not simply assume or flat out claim that I was lying to her about what I was eating - one previous actually told me "You really only just needed to stop sneaking bites of macaroni from your children's plates!" Really. I have in the last five years COMPLETELY overhauled nearly every single item that is ingested or applied to my body, run rounds with HCG, cut sugar, carbs, altered exercise regimes and even changed our cookware and storage to eliminate hormone influencers. To seemingly no avail.

Then I met Dr. Sarah Dalhoumi, who after drawing a nearly infusion necessitating amount of blood, was able - no, willing to look further into what exactly was going on. And a nearly 17 year battle with Hashimotos was the culprit. The good thing was, much of what I had already changed was what would best fight it (which in part, had helped mask and thankfully prevented some of the symptoms). The bad thing, in my opinion at the time, was that I needed to eliminate gluten entirely, as it mimics the antibodies that cause the autoimmune flare ups. I also started to take natural dissected thyroid medication, as well as maca supplements, a special supplement for a MTHFR genetic mutation, and a heavy hitting probiotic.

I immediately left that appointment and ate an entire box of Girl Scout Cookies. Actually, two. (In case you were wondering, Samoas and the peanut butter chocolate ones - I think they are called Tag-a-longs now.)

But the next day, I was on it. Back on it, with the new inclusions. Even gluten free. (I have not had "real" bread since February!!) Follow up bloodwork some months later showed progress, but the MTHFR mutation (which affects each cell's ability to metabolize and understand basic necessary nutrients) had room for improvement. And the next step was to add injections.

Self injections.

And I'm, admittedly, a needle wanny.

It was the end of July, the summer had been less than smooth, and I had to start stabbing myself in the buttock with a needle every three days. I wanted to see the results of balancing and reversing what my body had been fighting, within itself, for so many years, but it felt extremely dramatic.

Or maybe I am a bit dramatic.

I watched videos on YouTube for hours about how to properly prepare the injection site, painlessly (yeah, right) administer the injection, read what sites (either buttock) were most effective in receiving this medication...etc., etc., etc. I finally worked up the nerve to try the first shot, and when I had finally done it I felt such a surge of adrenaline (in part from the first dosing of the medication, in part from my accomplishment) that I literally burst out of my room, tripped and stubbed my toe on the carpet in the hallway. After...kind of...shoving my mother into the linen closet. (Sorry, Mama.) But, I did it!! And then I realized...in three days I would have to do this again.

During this entire time, God was reminding me of how He had told me, a VERY long time ago, to write through all of this. Through the years, every time I asked for miraculous healing and deliverance from especially the weight, he would answer "No, you have to participate in your healing. And I want you to write about it. But when you do, you will be blessed." I still argued, and didn't want to explore, in any way that could be even remotely public, all of this.

A few shots into my new regime, about a day after our family's explorative evening out, my husband came home from church with a mild stomach ache. There had been a potluck that afternoon, which newly gluten free me had skipped, and I teased him about whose food he must have eaten. He went to bed fairly early, which is not entirely uncharacteristic of him for a Sunday night  as his introverted self needs much refueling after the full expense of extroverted energy his "on" day requires.

Our daughter came to me that evening with a vision she had...we have this summer been exploring the Gifts of the Spirit in Children's Church, and she described to me in great detail what she had been shown.

I thought she was being a bit dramatic.  I wonder where she gets it.

I told her, however, to share with Daddy how she saw Holy Spirit near his belly - present, comforting, and healing. He smiled, thanked her, and sorely rolled over to try to get some rest. Around four something, he woke me up and asked if we could go to urgent care. Our family Sabbaths on Mondays, and he wanted to see what they had that could ease the pain to allow for a restful and fun day. The thought was run in early, get out quickly in time for maybe some Sabbath donuts on the way home.

Our "Super Quick" run into Urgent Care

But as that fateful Monday morning wore painfully on into a ploddingly difficult week, our daughter's vision took on an even more significant meaning than I could have ever imagined. Eric didn't really have careless coleslaw food poisoning after all.

Cancer. Stage Four. Metastatic throughout his liver. And all too quickly, the entire world as we knew it was turned completely upside down.