A (Late) Summer Reading List

I can tell it’s been a while since I updated my blog because every 20 minutes, I find myself composing a blog post in my head. Or maybe that has more to do with the careening thyroid levels I currently have which has led to moments of bone-crushing exhaustion followed by near-manic episodes of energy and inspiration. Either way, in the last few days I’ve been writing down blog post ideas in a word document entitled “My Brain”. Another symptom of thyroid levels being all over the place is brain fog/difficulty concentrating and in my case difficulty formulating sentences. Words just leave me. So in an attempt to adapt, I’ve started the continuously open word document in which I can write down any and all things that I know will leave my brain in about 10 seconds—everything from questions for my doctor to blog post ideas to a shopping list.

I’m getting to a point. What was it again? Right—I’ve got a list of about 10 different blog post inspirations that have come to mind in the last 48 hours. We’ll see how many actually get written. My hope is to post every day this week; we’ll see!

For today, a reading list. Not required reading. Just a bunch of suggestions. I’ve found as a cancer patient that I’m stuck flat on my back more often than I’d like. TV gets boring but a new book is always helpful to pass the time and occupy the mind. I’ve had a wide variety of book suggestions and have read a ton of wonderful fiction novels in the last few months. But I’ve also had some great non-fiction finds; some were sent to me by loving friends, others were suggested, and some were just found along the way. Here’s a few…read them, send them to others you know who are suffering, or whatever!

A Shelter in the Time of Storm: Meditations on God and Trouble by Paul David Tripp

I’ve loved every short meditation in this book and on nights when picking up the Bible seemed too overwhelming, it brought me back to the gospel in a manageable way. Each meditation focuses on a verse from Psalm 27 and has two short questions at the end of the reading for reflection.

Hearing Jesus Speak into Your Sorrow by Nancy Guthrie

The author buried two of her children before they reached their first birthday due to a rare genetic disorder. She writes from the heart and is clearly understanding of suffering, soothing, and brings you back to the truth of the gospel and God’s love gently. I am looking forward to reading her other books.

Everything Changes: The Insider’s Guide to Cancer in Your 20’s and 30’s by Kairol Rosenthal

Super practical and reassuring for me. It validated many of my feelings and helped me feel a little more sane in my experience of having cancer as a young adult. A compilation of first-hand stories and helpful resources. She also has a blog which I love reading. If you’d like to read a little more about my current situation click on this link.

You Gotta Keep Dancin’ by Tim Hansel

An encouraging read—I’m only 1/2 way through it but since I read that 1/2 in one night, I think it gets the thumbs up. It brought perspective and hope to me in a dark time.

…and two on my personal “To-Read” list—Place of Healing: Wrestling with the Mysteries of Suffering, Pain, and God’s Sovereignty by Joni Eareckson Tada and Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream by David Platt. I’ll see how they are and let ya know!

I Think I’m Alive

I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. (Psalm 27:13)

I’ve never really felt this close to death before. I know intellectually that I am not going to die. But over the past few days, I’ve felt like I’ve got one foot in the grave. I guess I was a little overly optimistic going into my radioactive iodine treatment. I thought I’d take the pill, hang out in my room, and start feeling better as soon as I took that first synthroid pill. It’s been a little different than that.

I guess it makes sense to feel this terrible. Doctors have brought me as close to death as possible in order to kill any remaining cancer. My entire body was radiated for 2 days after spending 5 weeks without a thyroid and 2 surgeries before that. I guess that would make anyone feel a little crummy. But I think I was secretly hopeful that I would glide through this treatment into the picture of perfect health.

Instead, I sleep 12-14 hours a day. And when I’m awake the only things I can accomplish are: take a shower, brush teeth, eat, lay on the couch. The most basic things take astronomical energy. My mouth is dry and my saliva is thick (salivary glands also take up the radiation). Ironically, after 5 weeks of a basically salt-free diet, I have a continuously salty taste in my mouth. Immediately after my treatment, I enjoyed one meal of bliss. Which was awesome. Since then, I’ve been semi-nauseous off and on and my appetite has been slim. I was so worried about the 20 pounds I gained in Africa (which were awful, yes) but I’ve lost all of it and then some in the past weeks and months. I never thought I’d want to gain a little weight. My joints continue to ache but my hair seems to be falling out a little less.

I’ve been averaging about one emotional breakdown a day. Thank goodness I have a patient and loving mother. Depression is a symptom of hypothyroidism but I think it’s also an accumulation of months of struggle. It seems like I swing between being too tired to care, being angry, grieving, and attempting to hold onto hope.

There is a vague end in sight. My doctor told me “After 3 weeks on synthroid, you’ll feel better. After 6 weeks, you’ll feel normal.” Let’s hope it’s true. I’m also planning to receive some counsel for the emotional difficulty of this experience at my age.

I don’t write all of this because I want others to feel sorry for me. Or guilty because they’re healthy. In fact, I read a fantastic article about just that the other day. Read it here. You can always find someone worse off than you. But thank goodness God has an interest in every detail of our lives and a heart full of compassion, whether we’re dealing with cancer or wearing uncomfortable shoes that day.

Anyway, I write it for those of you who want to know how I’m really doing. And because it is easy to write vague entries that make me look strong and like the perfect, shining Christian through this dark trial. But I’m not. Right now, I feel like a shell of my former self. I know God will fill me in with better stuff in the long-run. But right now, it’s hard to wait. So pray for me. And pray that I would hang onto Psalm 27:13. I know I’m still in the land of the living, even if I don’t feel it. And I will see God’s goodness. My confidence waxes and wanes but He never does.

Moments of Lightness

I’m on Day 2 of in-home isolation! Once I hit the 48 hour mark, I am considered to have most radiation out of my system and can begin moving around more freely. And best of all, I am allowed to take my first synthroid dose tomorrow morning and start the climb towards good health again.

I’d like to say that the last 2 days I’ve spent thinking deep thoughts, processing my life, and praying a lot. Instead, I’ve mostly been sleeping and forcing myself to drink gallons of water (as prescribed). Not having a thyroid for over a month has left me with few coherent thoughts, nor the energy with which to think. Hopefully synthroid will change that soon. And while I’ve spent some time in reflection and chatting with my Father, I’ve also given myself the freedom to sleep and veg out on 30 Rock episodes.

I also have gone through some photos taken over the last few months. It is easy to be bitter about the months that have been “robbed” from me. Since I’ve been home for the last five months, very few days have been spent feeling healthy. But, again, I can make the choice to focus on that or I can focus on the blessings God has rained down despite my health. So with that, I give you some of the moments that have been flooded with light in the past few weeks and months via photos.

This was the first time I met my nephews, Sam and Elias. They were barely 2 pounds and were hooked up to all kinds of machines. I couldn’t enter their hospital room and had to “meet” them via closed circuit television.

This is their happy family today! What an answer to prayer and look at how much they’ve grown. They are two of my six sweetest blessings and I savor holding them so much.

My dearest friends from college came to visit me a few weeks ago. It was a sacrifice as they drove from Connecticut, New York, and Pennsylvania to see me and the 24 hours spent with them was the best medicine I could have had. These girls were my family and still are in many ways and the fact that we were all in the continental U.S. for 4 weeks was miraculous, let alone that we spent that weekend together!

Receiving packages in Bundi is always thrilling. But I never would have thought getting them here would be equally exciting! Emails and cards of encouragement have been pouring in, as well as the occasional care package. This one is from my friend, Kate, and it was filled to the brim with fun/funny stuff to do during my isolation. I’m holding my harmonica and bird origami (in case you were wondering :)

We also had our first family dinner, with all of our immediate family members under one roof, in 11 months. When I arrived back from Uganda, Rachel and the boys were still in the hospital. Then the boys had to stay at home for a few months to keep them safe from germs and illness. Last Sunday, we were all together for the first time since I had left the previous September. Here Addie and Micah entertain their cousin Sam :)

Elias is already used to the paparazzi, even in his sleep. A dignified reaction at a young age.

Uncle Tony was a big hit in the pool, particularly when he became Mr. Buckethead.

Proof that yes, I was there, as were Rachel and Ethan!

prayer needed update

Hello all,

Just got back from the hospital and would like your prayers. I arrived, planning to take my radioactive iodine pill and immediately enter into isolation at home. Instead, I was told that I had received false information from my doctors and that I would only be taking a tracer amount, receiving a scan tomorrow, and will schedule the actual therapeutic iodine dose for next week. Frustrated, angry, and devastated don’t begin to describe it. Not only is my TSH above 200 and continuing this low iodine diet gets harder with every meal, but it is mentally and emotionally devastating to not receive the treatment you entered the hospital to receive.

Pray that God will provide the perseverance I need and that a miracle would occur, allowing me to take the actual radioactive therapeutic dose pill soon (like tomorrow!).

Prayers appreciated,

Chrissy

Stream of Consciousness (or scattered thoughts)

Lately my mind has been scattered, at best. My body isn’t far behind as it takes more and more effort to make it through each day. But, as I spend more and more time on the couch, I am faced with countless choices. Do I try to quiet the din of confusion with a book or movie? Do I try to sift through the past 12 months of my life and make some sense of it all? Do I even know where to begin in processing the fact that I received a cancer diagnosis at age 22? Do I talk this through with my Father? Do I look to the future with hope or fear? Do I focus on the good prognosis or the current physical discomfort? Do I pray for my team in Bundibugyo and others I know around the world?

I’m currently reading a book called “Everything Changes” that was written by a thyroid cancer survivor who was diagnosed at age 27. It’s a book about having cancer in your 20s and 30s and I’ve been fascinated by the stories of young adult cancer patients and how they coped with their diagnosis and treatment. One thing is clear to me: I can’t imagine facing this without my Rescuing Abba Father.

This whole cancer thing is a lot uglier than I formerly realized and I’m not even going through chemo or a series of radiation. Along with the physical discomfort, the emotional toll is high. And there are times when I allow myself to be frustrated, angry, and take a moment to say “This sucks!” and throw a pity party for one. But thankfully, those moments are usually pretty short-lived and God gives me the grace I need to continue on in His strength.

Having a brush with my own mortality in my early 20s has allowed me to find the blessings that I can only credit my loving God with. In these moments of darkness, I search for tiny pinpricks of light. And I’ve never been let down. So while I sit on the couch today, I’m choosing to focus on those pinpricks rather than the overpowering dark tunnel. I know this time in my life has changed me forever. And my prayer is that I won’t forget to focus on the glimmer of His light when all else seems dark.

To Be

...I am, you are, he is, they are, we are....

Whenever learning another language, one of the first things I want to learn is how to conjugate the verb "to be". (Of course learning greetings and important vocab like 'bathroom' come before even this :) Knowing how to say "I am..." is one of the most basic phrases around and a whole lot can be built from it. My Spanish is rusty these days but I don't think I'll ever forget how to conjugate "ser" after having it hammered into my head for about 4 years.

In this time of waiting and allowing my health to purposely deteriorate in order to make it better in the long run, I'm re-learning what it means "to be". It's a lesson I've struggled to learn since forever, I think. And I'm sure this won't be the last time. But as someone who is much more concerned with the "to do" rather than the "to be", I struggle when I am forced to stop doing and be content with just being.

As a 20-something, I have an inner drive to do, to create, to work. And instead, my life has come to a screeching halt multiple times. Boo. But through it all, I'm learning that my Abba Father doesn't love me any less or approve of me any less because of my current inability to do. All He asks is for me to be; to be with Him and in Him. He is quite capable of doing it all without me. He is bringing His redemption and His kingdom no matter what. I find great peace in the knowledge that just "being" is all that God asks of me and whatever "doing" comes as a result is added blessing.

Romans 8:22-25

"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently."

Adventure Planning

I'm less than a week post-op but today was spent planning adventures--some will come soon and others a bit later. To me, this is an important step in healing; finding hope in the future and making plans for adventures that are soon to come. My life has been nothing if not a roller coaster ride the last year or so. But, I like the idea of being able to choose a few of the exciting moments. Of course, I hold all my plans much more loosely than I used to. But a girl can dream!

Today I:

• booked tickets for ECHO, a agriculture and community development center in Florida, where I will spend a week in July.
• wrote out a "visionary document": a compilation of ideas and visions God has given me the last few months as I've prayed over how to best serve Him in Bundibugyo when I return.
• washed Ugandan fabrics I brought back with plans to make some special gifts in the near future.
• made a delicious fruit smoothie for lunch. Not future-oriented or even an adventure. But it was so yummy!
• priced motorcycle safety courses online. Yes, I am making plans to receive my Pennsylvania motorcycle license in September so I can learn the basics of driving a motorcycle on the crazy terrain of Uganda. I might have to cart in some goats and boulders so its a little less Philly and a little more Bundi. And yes, I know it's awesome to picture me driving a motorcycle.
• made an appointment to see my endocrinologist tomorrow. Pray for me as she tells me my final pathology report results and the plan of action for my care. I'm hoping that I won't need any nuclear medicine treatments but I have to wait and see what they found.

Thanks for praying me through this second surgery. God provided good nurses and better pain relief than the last go-round. And keep praying that I can embrace upcoming adventures outside of the health-care world!