Peace, for treatment one.

One of my favorite artists is Ansel Adams. His photographs always give me a sense of peace and tranquility of the world. With his eye and talent, some of the simplest objects transform into brilliant poetic pieces of art in front of our eyes. His talent comforts me, and the sense of peace calms me. A calm that is needed the first day of treatment.

A very wise woman, fellow friend and cancer survivor, Sarah, has stated numerous times to many other cancer warriors, that the only way out of this brutal treatment, is through. And the only way through, is to first, find peace within yourself. I may not have a terrible amount of control over this situation, but I can, for certain listen to Sarah and her words of wisdom.

Information:

• Tomorrow morning at 8am, will be the port surgery. They will then admit me to the hospital late morning. Following with fluids, and beginning the first transfusion of ICE chemotherapy. Treatment will begin around 5 or 6pm tomorrow (Wed) night. We continue treatment til mid Friday.Hopeful release will be Friday night or Saturday morning, pending on complications.

As so many of you have expressed a form of helplessness, that you wish you could do more. I ask of you, while you can not do much for me during these next three days. Take the kindness so many of you have embraced me with , and shed it upon someone else, that could benefit from your love. You'd be amazed at how much each of you affect me, everyday. I can't imagine how another individual would feel receiving your kindness, as well.

For now, we begin the battle.
To end the war.
With each of you, as the army behind me.

- B

a woman of valor more precious than rubies
she is robed in strength and dignity,
and graciously faces whatever may come...

Preparing for Battle

Before the battle of chemotherapy begins, I have taken some time to ensure that I am prepared physically and mentally for this incredible challenge I am about to face. Looking past the obstacles that I have had over the course of the last few years, I feel incredibly blessed for some of the friends and family I am able to look at, and call them mine. Just as I am theirs.

First, I was able to see my best friend, Darrel. Who is also my lovely transplant coach in Ohio.. This being the exact time last year he began his SCT, it gives me confidence and peace of mind, to go through mine. He is a source of knowledge, every transplant patient wishes they had...


















Then, I was able to head back to Boston for a night...
To pack up my entire life with 14 of my closest friends. I am not only blessed, but proud to say that these people are my friends, and other family. After packing we were able to have one last dinner together - in which all of them made me laugh until I cried, and began to realize again how incredibly lucky I am, to have each of them in my life. As, most of them have watched me battle diseases since my freshmen year of college. I can not imagine how difficult it is for them to watch me leave, again. To leave is one thing, to be left is another.













Some of you may say I am strong -
but it is because of their strength, that I am who I am. That I am ready, for Wednesday.

One of my dearest friends, John, also has saved my life over and over again the last few years. As he drove me, and all my lovely furniture back to good old Doylestown, PA. After a six hour drive, he then with others, helped unload my entire life back into my parents house. Not many people are able to pack up their entire life in one night, go out to dinner with all of their best friends, and leave the next morning for a new life - keeping a smile on their face. But, with John's help it was possible. Without him, my room, comfy clothes, and sanity would not be where they are right now.















Lastly, my family - from all ends. The Furey's, Rosan's, immediate and extended. Have once again up and lifted their life and heart to prepare me... once again, for chemotherapy. I will always be forever in debt to who they are, and how they have kept me smiling, all these years.

In addition, loose ends have been tied..
Boston move: check
Dental work: check
House cleaned from top to bottom: check
Seeing and spending time with best friends: check

I believe your mental state is one of our greatest weapons, when fighting something as aggressive as cancer. My mind is beginning to clear, my will to fight gains more strength everyday, and the calm before the storm has begun.

- B

---
Today I miss: being young, without worries
Today I am grateful for: the dental team and my aunt and uncle who made it possible for me to go into chemo without any infections
Today I smile for: phone calls from good friends all over the east coast, and the most beautiful flowers.. from family across the pond ;)

The impossible task: how to support a cancer patient.

I have been grappling with this concept for days now. Rehashing my past treatment, and the actions that took place within the last year to help aid me through chemotherapy. I have discussed with friends and family, their feelings, my beliefs, and acknowledging my tough exterior as some might see it.

Before, I begin. I must preface by stating that this post will include the utmost honesty, and vulnerability that I have.

I am aware that I am a very difficult person to support, during the diagnosis of cancer and treatment. I know that through my last round of chemotherapy I did not let too many people in to my cancer world, I kept people at arms length, even when they wanted to help, and I acted (like many first timers do), that I could take this head-on, by myself. Because I was strong. I believe there are times when this characteristic of strength is a good thing, but there are times, once we have matured as an individual that we must realize... Strength does not always mean pushing people out, and enduring pain on your own. Sometimes strength means, you have the knowledge and understanding of when to call upon others...

Therefore, instead of putting on a 'tough' face this time, and telling everyone that I am able to handle this next battle on my own. I have thought long and hard, and have decided that I need to be incredibly explicit about something that is impossible to do:

How do you support, someone, like bekah?

I'd like to give you some guidelines, that I feel are vital for you to understand me and the process I am about to go through. I hope you are able to read these, not take anything incredibly close to heart, and recognize that these are just a few of my needs that I did not express well during last treatment, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to do so, the second time around.

Please don't:

• Tell me it's going to be fine.. All of this, definitely can be fine - at the end. When chemotherapy and transplant are done. But please, don't tell me it is all going to end up 'fine,' or 'okay.' I need to be realistic, and so does my support system. We do not know what each day will bring, so for now. I remain positive, and hope for the best. We hope everything will be fine. But we do not know, for sure.

• Tell me Jesus or G-d or 'he' will save me, or it's in G-d's hands..This one is actually a little humorous, because, one, as some of you may know I am Jewish. Two, when I did believe in G-d, I believed she was a woman. I respect every single religious affiliation out there, trust me. Please, continue to practice your beliefs and religions, but for now. Respect me, and my beliefs. I will save me, you all, will save me, my doctors will save me... and that's all I need for now.
  

• Let me know that the world, or god, can only give me what I can handle.. Believe it or not, this is probably one of the most difficult things to hear. I have gone through a lot of medical treatment from my kidney disease, now to this relapse. When people say this to me, it makes me feel as though -- I deserve more pain, because I am strong. I'm sure none of you mean this. But that's the way it feels to me. So, if you believe I'm a tough cookie -- tell me. But stray away from any rationalizations.
  

I can say for the record, hardly any of these have been touched upon. But I wanted to be as explicit as possible, so you all know what you're in for ;)

Now! for the most amazing things, that you all are doing for me. I decided to form a list, and deeply thank you for all you have done, thus far.

Please continue to:

• Tell me this is worth it. I know, in my head that this treatment is worth it, but you have no idea how difficult it is facing another four months of treatment, with isolation treatment on top of that. I need to be reminded, I need to know, you, think this is worth it. Some days, I will forget... I need your voices.

• Your cards, phone calls, messages, and ims, make me day, in fact, they make my life. For the tons of you who have written me emails, cards, and called. I listen. I hear you. I may not respond back right away, or maybe not at all. But, good lord, I hear you. There are some nights, I pull up my computer and reread each one of your emails that tell me, I am strong enough to go on. I save phone messages, that tell you that you love me and you're right there with me 'mentally.' In the standstill of cancer treatment, these pieces of you - save me.

• When you tell me you're going to be there... you're there. When you are diagnosed with cancer for the first, or even second time. You completely feel as though your world is out of control. You have no control over your body, where your life is about to take you, how you will react to the medications, when chemo will be depending on your response. You are, out of control. Therefore, when plans, visits, or phone calls are made. And they are kept. It gives me a sense of control over my life. Something, I've planned is on schedule and consistent.
  

• Continue to be honest with me.. Some of you have made it very clear that you are in for the 'long haul,' that you will continue to call, write, visit, ect. Others have made it clear that they don't know what to say or do in this situation, that it is 'too much,' or 'too difficult.' Whatever your feelings are, my friends, be honest. At this point in time, if I know you are 'here' in spirit and in the fight with me. That's wonderful. If things are too rough for you - to put it bluntly, please jump ship now. It is important for me to know who I can draw strength from.

This is definitely not one of the most poetic concepts I've had in a while. But felt it was necessary before treatment began, since a lot of you have asked 'What can I do?' There isn't much -- but there is this.

I realize, I am incredibly difficult to support. I know that, for a fact. I am hoping as I process more of my thoughts, on what I need... I will be honest with you. And you will hear me.

- B

-----

Today I miss: my roomate, Jen

Today I smile for: my absolutely amazing friends who packed up my entire house in Boston, last weekend, put it into a uhaul, and unpacked my life, back here in Doylestown.

Today I am grateful for: your patience, with me.

You must be able to see the beauty in pain...

Darrel Hale , is one of the most stoic, sensitive, and profound survivors I have met along this cancer battle. If anything, I attribute my ability to form these thoughts from our long, lovely, conversations.

I feel, in life, we are able to see the pureness and beauty in the most painful and heartbreaking, situations. This beauty can consist of, your inner strength, the light inside you, the relationships around you, or something as simple as pausing and realizing for the very first time, how the sound of your feet crunch lightly in soft snow. The perfection of that action, the beauty, that you see -- that maybe not everyone else takes the time to cherish, and place delicately into their heart. But you are, you can see it. I can see it. I am determined to find the beauty, in this.

• Stage III Disease
  

Yesterday, I would consider was one of the most emotional days for me and my family. We had appointments with my original oncologist team who treated me through my first chemotherapy, my new transplant doctor, and a fertility consult. The news that probably hit us the hardest was that I am at a progressive stage three disease. We were surprised with this result, because of a recent, clear x-ray done in mid-November. We walked into the doctors office thinking I would be in the early stages of this disease since it has only had a month to grow. Apparently, not. So, we took a breath, a deep one.

Luckily, the transplant doctor, Dr. Sunita Nasta - one of the top transplant doctors at Upenn Hospital, does not seem phased by the status of my disease. She is a calm, confident, women who has had very successful transplant treatments, under her care.

• Infertility

Lastly, and certainly the furthest thing from my mind, but the hardest to accept will be my infertility as a result of ICE and BEAM chemotherapy. I still have yet to digest that one, and will probably do so after transplant. I do not believe there are reasons for this, but once again know that there are other ways to be a mother, that I will turn this negative into a positive when the time comes.

I believe, honestly and truly in this concept. That I, as an individual have the capability to find true beauty in what I am about to endure. I once again have the choice, when I look at these appointments I have the choice to curse up at the heavens, to wallow, to cry with heartache. Or I can see through the pain, I can see push myself to see the good. To recognize that I have doctors, I have the possibility of a cure, I have people who love me, deeply. I have a fierce, fierce spirit that has beaten the odds before. I have beauty in myself, and in all of you. And through all of this, I hope you allow yourselves as well to see the beauty in life, even in our time of pain.

Chemo begins: Wednesday January 30th.

-B

----
Today I miss: being a teacher
Today I smile for: breakfast conversations
(airdales in red snow boots)
Today I am grateful for: my brother and sister.

Choices

As life hands each of us challenges, we begin to realize it is not the challenge that will mold us into the characters we are, but how we choose to react to these challenges.

Last week through a pathology, oncologists did confirm that the Hodgkins Lymphoma has returned. My choice is to continue with treatment. This treatment will consist of four parts.

1. ICE chemotherapy:

• ICE chemo is on a twenty one day cycle. This means, I will be admitted to the hospital (in-patient) for three consecutive days of infusions and fluids. After these three days, I will then be released and have eighteen days to recover.
  
• We will most likely do three cycles of this treatment. Over a three to four month period.
  

2. Stem Cell Collection:

• Stem cells will be retreived (since my bone marrow is clean, I will be using my own stem cells for this process). Once doctors have retrieved enough cells from my blood, they will harvest them until they are ready to go back into my body.

3. BEAM Chemotherapy:

• After all three rounds of ICE and the stem cells have been collected, there will be a week or two of recovery before I am admitted back into the hospital.
  
• I will then undergo five consecutive days of infusions of this specific chemotherapy. In cancer terms we consider this 'day -5,-4,-3,-2,-1.'
• During these days, the BEAM will wipe out my entire immune system as well as my bone marrow. In hopes that the cancer will never return
  

4. Stem Cell Transplant

• On 'Day zero' I will then receive the harvested stem cells back into my body. This is considered your re-birthday. My immune system, and cells are basically starting over.
  
• During this time in the hospital we wait till my cells engraft, form, and blood levels resume to a normal level. This usually takes two to three weeks, and this part of the treatment is in isolation.
  

I realize this seems incredibly overwhelming. But, I choose to take things one day at a time -- that is all we can really do for now. I am so grateful for all of you, and your on-going support through this tough time. This will not be an easy battle, but I assure you - it is doable. Especially with all of your love and comfort to push me through.

I will be meeting with my oncologist team this Thursday to confirm dates on ICE. I will update when we have confirmed these specific dates, as to when I will be in the hospital, what days I will be able to talk on the phone, and times I will be unavailable to speak.

All my love, to all of you,
B

----
Today I miss: my life in boston
Today I smile for: knowing that there is still a cure
Today I am grateful for: all of you.