Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Nine Days

Today was my last doctor visit until my surgery on the 12th. No more tests or consultations or anything else. All I have to do is count down until the surgery date. On Feb 12, I will be having my breasts removed along with some lymph nodes and up to four drains put in. I will have a shunt implanted above my heart for chemotherapy. On the 12th I will find out if I need radiation or not; it's depending on how many lymph nodes show cancer and how close to my chest wall the tumor is. All that and they think I should be out of the hospital and happily at home the next day. Happily was my word. It was sarcasm.

I'm not going to sit around worried about what is going to happen in 9 days. I'm no longer going to spend all day and night researching breast cancer or crying on the phone to people because I have breast cancer. It's all pretty much set now. No matter what else I learn or how sad I get between then and now, nothing is going to change. This operation is going to happen. And I'm ok. I am truly ok.

I can't imagine that I will be updating my little blog everyday between now and then. I guess I could keep updating the blog, but it seems unlikely that people will keep coming back to read things like, "today I was going to wash clothes, but my Netflix movies came in so I ate an entire bag of Cheetos and watched movies."

Here's hoping Netflix comes in tomorrow!


  1. Thank God for giving us the person who invented the CHEETO!!!! Hey I love you and your most Beautiful hair in all the LAND!!!

  2. Hey Sheri!

    We don't know each other. Steve, my hubby, and I have been friends with Mary & Dave for 19 years. Wow. Now that I see that number in print, it strikes me as being a crazy long time. We all met at the Canyon Theatre Guild in Canyon Country.

    Okay, most importantly,...did you do your laundry today? And did you separate out the whites and colors? I know, it's a dumb question. But when Steve had cancer, I stopped separating the colors because it seemed to be so unimportant in the midst of our crisis. Trust me, it's important to separate colors from non-colors. His underware turned shades of pink!

    What did you watch from Netflix? You may think that such a thing is trivial and boring to your bloggers. But no. Not to me.

    You are a wife, mom and gorgeous woman, and your family is a precious gem that you wear everywhere. They absolutely adore you as you gird up for an "interesting" journey and long life.

    I know I sound cavalier. Please don't misunderstand. Lightheartedness goes a long way in healing.

    Here's a statement that sounds absurd...cancer is surreal. Unless you are the one in the middle of it, there is no expression for what you are feeling. Because there are NO words invented yet.

    In 1989, Steve and I found out he had cancer. He had been told for a month or so that he had a goiter. NOT. The cancer had wrapped around his neck, thyroid, thymus gland and had invaded one lung. It cut off the blood flow, giving the impression of an enlarged neck. Now, enough of that. Just wanted to share some history.

    There is so much to share, but right now, it's important that you hear a verse that Steve was given in church the day after we were told of his "incurable" cancer: We have it engraved in our patio...
    1 Chronicles 4:10
    "And Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying, Oh that thou wouldest bless me indeed, and enlarge my coast, and that thine hand might be with me, and that thou wouldest keep ME from evil, that it may not grieve me! (and here's the good part) AND GOD GRANTED HIM THAT WHICH HE REQUESTED."

    It's the only prayer in The Bible where a servant of The Lord asks for 5 requests in one fell-swoop, AND God says YES! :)

    You are being kept in prayer, Sheri. You have only just begun to see miracles!

    Cheryl&Steve Cook

  3. Sheri,

    I see my wife Cheryl sent you a note today. I think my note will be shorter. When I was battling cancer (they gave me as little as 6 months and that was, let's see, about 19 years ago) I had a couple of bursts of clarity which I think (along with hanging close to God) helped me to thrive and survive.

    I decided that nothing smaller than me was gonna kick my ass. No way, no how. And any tumor inside of me was obviously smaller than me. AND I realized that while there is breath in you, there is life in you...and where there is life -- there is hope.

    I had more thoughts than that, of course, but this is enuff for now. Really try to get that into you, and know you will live. Know it like you know and trust in gravity. No doubts.

    Take care,

    Steve Cook (hubby of Cheryl and psuedo dad to 3 greyhounds)