Happy Easter

Hope. A word I have heard all my life. A word I use all the time.
"Hope to see you soon."
"Hope you do well on your test."
"Hope you can get some rest."
"Hope you don't get stuck in traffic."
"Hope you win the lottery." :)
"Hope you feel better."
Hope. A word I never really understood until I was diagnosed with cancer. Hope is nothing unless it is hope in Jesus. Hope in Jesus is real. It is life. It is what gives me rest at night and what gets me out of bed in the morning. It sustains me the few days before a check-up when gut-wrenching fear threatens to creep in. It conquers fears. It brings peace. Hope in Jesus Christ because He defeated death and rose from the grave. Hope because He lives. Hope because His power is not limited by cancer.

scar tracker [five months post-op]

firebreather: long-term effects of radiation

I got to see the Discovery shuttle launch (from afar) when I was in Florida over spring break. It was really cool and was clearly an excellent photo opportunity. :o)

scar tracker [four months post-op]

doctor's office etiquette

The day I went to the doctor to have him tell me I have cancer there was this insanely annoying woman in the waiting room. She was talking on her cell phone in an extremely loud voice. And she.would.not.shut.up. I'm sitting there with my stomach in my throat about to puke my guts out because I know what the doctor is about to tell me, and Chatty Cathy is over there talking about what she had for lunch. I wanted to take her precious cell phone and cram it down her throat. But I didn't. And eventually, after the nurse called her name multiple times (Chatty C. couldn't hear the nurse over all the loud talking), she went back to see the doctor and I no longer had to listen to her obnoxious phone conversation. So, next time you're at the doctor, out of respect for that girl sitting across the room consumed with dread and anxiety over what she is about to hear, mind the sign posted at the door and turn off your cell phone.