In Years Past

Some things never really change. And most of the time we don't want them to. We want things to stay the same because the same is safe. Even if that thing is hard, changing would be harder because change means facing the unknown. I know that if I want something I have never had, I have to do something I have never done.

In this season of I am reminded every year of just how much has changed in my life. This time three years ago, I was so sick I didn't want to go to work or hang out with friends. I would find out in just about three weeks that I had Leukemia.

Two years ago I was starting to recover from the toxic chemo, then two months into having my hair back. I was struggling to find my balance in a new life that was completely uncharted: the life of a survivor. No doctor could promise me anything beyond my next breath.

One year ago I was still on chemo and struggling with the mood swings of my medication. I was working at a job and trying to pretend to be normal when I felt everything but. I remember crying when I would get home from my job for no other reason than because I felt bad. I felt like I was living a lie by acting normal around everyone. But to show the truth would have hurt so much more. I was fearful that my parents would make me quite my job or worse pull me out of college.

And this year? Well, this year I am not sick, not even a cold. I am feeling better than I have in a long while. Actually, I can't recall the last time I have felt so full of hope.

My new normal is showing me that change can be a good thing. That change can bring about hope. Even if it take three years to actually enjoy Christmas again.

-Rachael

p.s.

I am very thankful for my life this Christmas, but I am most thankful for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

A New Dream

So, it is time you all know that Rapunzel is my favorite princess. From her spunky, adventurous personality, to her creative purple wearing tendencies, this girl speaks to my soul. I even dressed up as the brunette version of her last year and this year for Halloween. (Never pass up an opportunity to dress like a princess!)

The movie as several themes but one of them seems to be, "Have a dream, and be bold enough to go and live it." This plays out with Rapunzel wishing to go and see the "floating lights" and at last having the courage to do so.

I love finding bits of myself in other's stories, so when I saw a piece of my life in Rapunzel's life I did a happy dance on the inside. Okay, maybe on the outside too.

You see, when I was sick, all I could think about was getting better and going to school. I have been longingly staring out the windows in my life, wondering what it would be like to at last be well enough to go away to college. In this perfect dream, I would go to a private Christian college even though at the time I didn't think I could ever afford that. God actually shaped and allowed my dream to be realized in ways I didn't think were possible. 

He gave me a hope and a future.

He gave me my dream.

And now I am here, at college, and it is everything I thought it would be. More actually. I could not have orchestrated such a perfect place to complete my education. I could not have designed a better environment to live in. And I could not have dreamed of the passion God has instilled in my soul. 

I have my dream... Now what?

In the words of Flynn Rider, I get to go and find a new dream. And I have to tell you, this dream searching thing is both wonderful and terrifying. The possibilities are so endless I scare myself sometimes contemplating them all. The "what ifs" can go on forever. 

My new normal finds me in search of a new dream

-Rachael

Today is a Gift

I have spent the last few days drowning myself in a mess of self-pity. I have probably thought "If only I could be well!" at least a thousand times. If only I could be well I could do my school. If only I could be well then I could actually take care of my body. If only I could be well it wouldn't hurt to walk.

If only I could be well, then I would be happy.

Yet just this morning I realized I was lying to myself. I bought the lie that the world tells me that if I just have (fill in the blank) I will be happy. But my happiness is not based on my current physical state. If this were so, I never would have been happy for the two and a half year of chemo. I would not have been happy when I suffered from anxiety. 

I was happy during those days. I had some of the best days of my life in between the doctor's visits and pain medication. I was happy. If this is so, then my happiness has nothing to do with where I am, and nothing to do with what I feel like. 

My happiness, my joy, is found in the Lord. 

I felt quite ungrateful when I understood this. I have not forgotten the days I prayed to be well enough to attend college. For the days I prayed for the money for school. For the days I wanted nothing more than to be done with chemo. And here I am, the place I said that if I could only get to, I would be happy. Wow, Rachael, you are so forgetful!

Today, like every day, is a gift from above. And I get to decide how I will spend it. Will I wallow in self-pity? Will I wish for the "one thing" that will make me finally happy?

Or will I be grateful? Will I rejoice for clouds and for sunshine? Will I frown because it is night? Or will I smile and look for stars? I can not choose where I am at physically, but I can choose joy. I can choose to say thank you for how far I have come. I can choose to remember that life is a journey, and if I won't be happy until "I get there" then I will be unhappy for the rest of my life.

This doesn't mean I can't be sad. This doesn't mean I can't cry or get mad or be depressed. It means that when the wave has passed I don't refuse to stand up out of the water. It means that I might have to ask for help, but I can overcome this. I do not walk this life alone.

I will not wait until I get better, I will be happy now.

My new normal is remembering that nothing in this life will make me "happy" as true joy is found only in the Lord.

-Rachael

Some Days I Just Want to Hide

The last few weeks have been tough ones for me. I decided not to tell you about it until it was over and I understood part of it myself. 

First, there was a lot of pain. I didn't want to get out of bed in the morning. I forced myself to act normal and carry on with life. But then one morning it got worse. I cried and sobbed and got a ride to the ER. They said it was nothing, they sent me home with medicine. For one week, I believed them.

Then it was back. Worse this time.

I went again. They did some scans. No cancer, praise the Lord. Just a gallbladder. 

Just.

Just  a surgery in the middle of the school year. Just a week of pain and no food. Just a few months of eating special food and not feeling well. Just.

So yesterday I had surgery.

Lord, when will it end? I have come to the conclusion that I will never be "well" again. At least not well as other people are. 80% of people who had childhood cancer suffer from long-term health effects. How silly I was to think I could find my way into the small 20%. 

My roommate was good enough to move our room around so I wouldn't have to climb onto a top bunk. My professors were kind enough to tell me to take all the time I needed to get well. Everyone must bend over for me. Work life around me. It seems I will be on the "special" list everywhere I go. Everyone will know my name, but not because of something good. 

God has shown his ever-present love in this. The girls on my hall gathered around me and prayed together for peace and healing on this. For a quick recovery and that I might get back to school soon.

Lord, if you can not hear me, at least hear them.

My new normal is harder to live some days and today is especially hard.

-Rachael

Life Sentence

I am required to attend chapel three times a week at my college. Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays at 10:30 in the morning we file in and find a seat in the arena. Sometimes I sit with friends. Sometimes I sit alone. Some days the speaker is mostly there to tell us information about school and upcoming events. 

But some days we get a speaker who tells us something awesome. This week was one of those times.

Our speaker got up after the worship songs and introduced himself. He said he wanted us to think about something. He said, after we have died, people are going to talk about us. He said they will be standing around some years after I am gone and my name will come up in a conversation. And someone will say something to the effect of, "Remember Rachael? She was..." And more than likely we will only get once sentence that describes us before the conversation moves on to other things. One sentence that describes our lives. 

Just one.

My mind was reeling. What would people say about me? Would they say I was smart? Kind? Happy? Would they say I beat cancer? That I went to college to be a teacher?  That I loved to read? But the better question was:

 What did I want them to say about me?

See, I cannot really control what they said about me after I die, not really. But I can make something in my life more apparent than the others. Make my life sentence, because I may just get one, count. 

I don't know just what I want my sentence to be, but I made a list of things that I want people to remember me by. 

1. I want to be remembered for loving Jesus with all my being. Not just be a person who talked the talk. I want people to say, "Remember her? She really loved Jesus."

2. I want to be remembered for my compassion to others. Someone who goes out of her way to help and aid others in life. Even if that means crossing oceans. I want people to say, "Remember her? She was a humanitarian."

3. I want to be remembered for the girl who was scared to, but did it anyway. The girl who cried herself to sleep at night because she was so afraid to do something, only to do it the next day. I want people to say, "Remember her? She faced her fears."

4. I want to be remembered for having a full life. I don't want people to say I never took risks or never did anything new. I want people to say, "Remember her? She loved adventure and lived her life."

5. And lastly, I want to be remembered for being beautiful because of, not despite, my scars. I want people to say, "Remember her? Her past didn't design her; it transformed her."

What will your life sentence be?

-Rachael

Fast and Slow. Good and Bad.

It blows my mind some days just how short a time good things take to happen. When You are in the dark place, it feels like it will never end. It was that way when I was sick. I wondered every hour of every day, "Will this ever be over?" 

Two years sounds like a long time. Sounds like a little eternity when speaking of, or living, bad stuff. And the longer the bad stuff goes on, the less and less hope I had that good stuff could ever possibly happen again. Or if it did, it could never make up for all the bad stuff.

But what if I considered good things? Is two years a long time to be married? No. Is two years a long time to attend a college? No. Is two years even a long time to live in one spot? Not at all. My new normal is slowly teaching me that the time for something to take, is irrelevant in the long run. Will it take me longer than normal to finish school? Maybe. But in the end I will still finish. Did I devote two years of my life to getting better? Mostly. But I did and learned a lot of other things in those two years as well. 

And so I need to rethink what I call "a long time." And just because it feels like a long time, doesn't always mean it is. And the good that comes after? I didn't think it could happen so fast! I need to remember such things next time I go through a "long" hard time in my life. My next dark phase might be brighter if I just remember that good things can happen just as quickly as bad things.

I need to look out for ways that I am growing and learning in my dark times too. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I do learn more in my dark times. I know I walk closer to God. I walk so close that some days I don't let go of his hand. Some days he carries me because I have not the energy to walk on my own. And it is those days I learn the most about myself and about God. We do a lot of talking on such days. 

Maybe it is the bad that helps me better understand the good? I wish there were an easier way to do that! I wish I did not have to walk through the valley of the shadow to enjoy the sun on the other side! But maybe I do. And if it must be so, I am glad I came to see it at the age of one and twenty.

-Rachael

New Chapter

I know I reference books a LOT by saying things like, "This is a new chapter in my life story," and I do this for two reasons. One: I love books, and two: it is the truest comparison I have ever found. When I read a fiction book, one chapter might find the character in a wonderful place surrounded by love. And the next chapter all hell has broken loose and the world is coming to an end.

My life has been like this. I had a normal, happy childhood for the most part. I had depression and anxiety in my early teens. Then, in my 18th year, I thought I had it all together. I loved my college classes, my part-time jobs were paying for everything, and I thought I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. 

And then

Cancer.

That chapter of my life was way way way way way way to long. It was almost like a mini book within the story of my life. It was broken up into several sections or zones of my journey.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I now, at last feel like that chapter is over. I know I said that before, but maybe it is because I have at last started the next chapter. I am out of state, four and a half hours from home, at a college to finish my education. I am in the place I could only dream about two years ago.

I remember thinking, "I will never be done with cancer. I will never go off to school. I will never catch up with my friends." Such thoughts should not have been there. Oh, dear self, how I wish I could tell you how amazing your life will so soon be! How it was so worth the fight to be here! How you were not one bit homesick or sad when your mom left. You will only cried happy tears because today has come at last.

Happy tears are a great change.

The next chapter has begun with a smashing start.

-Rachael

Dear Self

Dear 19-year-old self,

I am so incredibly filled with joy these days that I can hardly breathe. I do not know how to describe it. I guess I never thought I could ever be this happy again. Not after cancer. Not after all of that pain. Not after all I went through in that 19th year of my life.

But old self, things do get so much incredibly better! As I said above, so much better! How, you ask? Well, you know all that pain you are in? I can not say it has gone away entirely, but I can tell you that it no longer controls your life. You will have bad days but your good days will more than make up for it. You won't even be on prescription pain meds in two years!

Now about your hair, darling, I am sorry you must go without until the end of October. But that dream you have now? That one about haveing hair for Christmas? It will come true. You will have a cute little cut. And don't despair when it starts to curl worse than a poodle and you can't do anything with it. The curl will grow out. And in just two years time, you will be able to put your hair up in your favorite hair style. And it will make you cry you are so happy.

Pills and chemo consume your life now, but not soon. In October, you will stop the real nasty stuff and most of your energy will come back. But don't get too frustrated when you are not all you think you can be for the year and a half after that. You are still fighting battles that nobody can see. Give yourself some peace and rest and don't push yourself too hard. The time to be better will come.

You told your mom just the other day that you, "might as well be dead," until your chemo was over. But that isn't true. You will do some awesome things. You will get to give a speech that will inspire others to fight cancer. And you will get to dress up like your favorite princess and have little girls follow you around all day.

And self? Some days you are going to want to give up. You will cry in despair and wish for it to end. You will think of the limbs of your body you would give up for it just to be over NOW. But you can't rush these things. Healing is a marathon, not a sprint. It takes time. Pass the time how you can, knowing that it will be worth it. There is a life after cancer, dear one. And it is awesome.

-Rachael

Hello August

Our county fair always starts the last week of July and ends in the first week of August. I looked forward to it every year growing up because I was in 4-H and that meant we got to show off our projects at the fair. We also got to go on rides and eat fair food.

For me at least, the county fair was like the last good story of the summer before August became the bookend to my summer. August is when school starts (I still can not believe I am leaving in just two weeks!) August is when the warm weather cools down. August is the last chance to get that summer bucket list done.

Some people get sad around this time, but not me! For one, I really like fall. It has been my favorite season for as long as I can remember. But something special happened in the fall two years ago. 

My hair started growing back. I mark the anniversary every year with a grateful prayer. I just can't believe come October I will have had my hair back for two years! I felt like I was bald for ever. Then I felt like my hair was so short forever. And then I waited forever just to be able to do a pony tail! 

So the autumn season holds a notable place in my heart. Many see it as the ending but I now hold on to it close as a beginning. A beautiful start to my new "after cancer" life. Autumn was the end of a lot of pain for me. The end.

Yep. It is official. I love endings way more than beginnings!

-Rachael

So Much Wonder

This quote has never been so true! I have not the words to explain what the last three weeks of my life have been. But I shall attempt it. 

My life has been fun because camp was fun! We played so many games and laughed and sang til we lost our voices. I think the staff has more fun than the campers, honestly. We get to watch the campers play some ridiculous games and cheer them on.

My life has been wonderful because God is good. He showed me that in numerous ways while I was at camp. First, in the lives of the staff, who were all there just to serve God. Some of them get "payed" but most, like myself, were only there because God called us to be. Second, I saw it in the lives of the campers. They praised with all their heart and soul and reminded me what it was like to be a child of faith again.

My life has been awe-inspiring because I saw the work of the Lord on so many levels. Five of the campers gave their lives to the Lord. I personally got the honor of leading a girl to Christ. She was so excited, I could see the light in her eyes and it made me cry. Even now when I think about it I can hardly breathe. 

My life has been deep. So deep. So filled with learning, searching, and finding. I know why I am here now. I feel like I finally understand why my life was spared. I am here to touch others. I am here to make a difference. And I am doing that already.

I never expected to find myself when I left home. But I think I did. I think I learned that home is where the heart is, for when I got home my heart ached for the people there, and that place became home. 

I didn't want to admit the fact that I was scared of the idea of leaving for college. However, camp taught me that as long as I have people around me who love me, I don't need to worry. People are what make it home, not places.

So my new normal has taught me that I am ready to leave home because while home is feels safe, it is not the only place that I can feel at home.

-Rachael

Camp Time

This post will be short. I know I have mentioned camp at least once, but I think I forgot to mention the fact that I will be away from internet connection for the next two and one half weeks.

I will miss writing but I know I will have wonderful tales to tell. Ones filled with the grace and goodness of God.

So I will leave with this picture and quote from one of my favorite people. I often find it hard to remember that I am not a side character, I am not even a costar, in my life story. I am the Leading Lady.

Step aside world. Here I come!

-Rachael

Endings

So here we are. Another ending in my life. First, I finished community college, then I ended cancer treatments, and now I prepare for my last day at work. I have worked at the job for five years on and off. The off times came when I was too sick to be there. Yet the job always welcomed me back.

I have been thinking about all the endings in my life. People often think about endings as bad, but they are not all that way. Some are quite good. 

The best part of an ending, though? The realization that if there is an ending to one thing, there must be a beginning of another. Endings don't stop things, they start new things! As in, I stopped ignoring the call to run and I started running in May of this year. I stopped chemo and started a weird new life that is my new normal. 

And now I end my time at a job that I have both loved and hated. Loved because the people who work there are quite wonderful. Hated because the people who shop there aren't always. But through ups and down's I have learned a lot at this job, which was also my first job. I got it just one month after turning 16. Gosh, I was so young.

So I guess this is sort of another lesson cancer has taught me. Endings can be good. Though it doesn't turn out anything like I thought it would. Who could have guessed I would be leaving this job to work at a camp for 2 and a half weeks and then off to a college so great I could never have picked it for myself? Only God. 

So yes, things must come to an end. I am more thank okay with that. In fact, I am excited about that. Endings for me will always remind me of new beginnings, fresh starts, and beautiful mornings. 

Cancer taught me that nothing should be taken for granted. Not even endings.

-Rachael

What My Days Hold

I had my first post chemo check up yesterday. As my mom drove me to the cancer center I fidgeted with the wrinkles in my jean shorts and stared out the window at the clouds. I have been noticing clouds a lot more. I have been noticing a lot of things a lot more. The beauty in the sound of rain, the golden color of light, the different sounds people make when they laugh and talk. Sometimes it is like I am seeing everything for this first time.

At the cancer center, I didn't think things would be too different, but some things have changed. Normally when I get my blood drawn it is through my port, but now that I no longer have a port I get blood drawn like everyone else. This means I don't have to go into a special room at the cancer center, and sit in one of the heated recliners. I just sat in one of the blood draw chairs closer to the nurses station. 

They got my blood out with just one poke, that is not normal for me. Before, because my veins are small, they often have to poke me many times, which can include breaking a vein, before they would get it in. Not this time! My arm is only slightly sore today but that I hear is normal.

So then we went up stairs to see my doctor. I read about people who come in for post cancer check ups before, about what they think about in the waiting room. About what if the cancer came back or maybe something else could be wrong. I told myself I wouldn't think about those things. But I did.

Then the nurse called my name, I went and told them all about my life the past month and how I was no longer having chemo. They all congratulated me and told me how happy they were for me. That was when I began to relax a little.

Then my doctor came in, he seemed in high spirits so that relaxed me more. He made small talk as he turned the computer on. Then he said what I had been waiting for, "I saw your blood counts, they look good."

I can not explain the weight I exhaled.

We talked, he examined me, and he gave me a prescription for more pain meds just in case I needed them.

And then we left and had lunch with my grandmother. On the way home I noticed the clouds again. And I thought about how beautiful they must look from above and how not until just recently did anybody get to see them from above. God was making them beautiful even though nobody could see them. 

I take too much for granted in this life, my life included. I complain too much. I don't say sorry enough. And I look past beautiful things like clouds and sun sets only to see pain and darkness. 

My life isn't perfect; nobody's is. But I am blessed beyond compare.

-Rachael

Laugh Without Fear?

This verse always gets to me. Before cancer, a fear of the future was always on my mind. I was always wondering if this or that would work out. I lay awake many nights, unable to sleep, worried about the future.

But all of that changed when I leaned I had leukemia. That one mountain blocked out all the other little "problems" I thought I had.

Even now I still wonder, what does my tomorrows hold? What if the cancer comes back? How will I find the strength to fight it again?

What is this strength and dignity that the woman in the verse is clothed with? For a long time I thought that meant I needed to be strong and dignified by myself. I tried, endlessly, to be strong enough, to hold my head up, to keep going. But having my very life hanging before me made me realize the powerful truth: the strength and dignity come from God, not me. I could never be strong enough on my own.

And did you see that she is "clothed in strength and dignity"? I love that imagery. She doesn't just pick it up when she needs it. She doesn't hold on to it so that she could possibly drop it or leave it behind. She is clothed in it. It is with her wherever she goes, whatever she does, God's strength and dignity is with her, covering her. Like a shield of protection.

The woman who is clothed in God's strength and dignity does not need to fear because she doesn't have to face anything on her own. 

That is why she can laugh without fear of the future.

I cannot tell you how relieved I was to not to have to be strong on my own! Some days now I wonder, what if the cancer came back? How could I fight it? I don't have to. God's strength and dignity clothe me now. If it comes back, I will have nothing to fear. If it comes or doesn't God will be with me, and that is enough. The days ahead no longer hold a ransom on me.

I am free to laugh without fear of the future.

-Rachael

Flash Back

I must be honest. I have put off writing this because it hurts. Even now the memories come crashing down on me. My fingers hesitate on the keys. But this needs to be said.

Before I had cancer, I read about PTS or post traumatic stress. It said that one of the symptoms was experiencing flash backs of the event(s). Not having experienced any great hard event in my life, I didn't think that symptom sounded as bad as the other symptoms like sleeplessness or sudden out bursts of anger.

But then I had cancer.

Memories can be so strong. The wash over me like I am standing on a boat in a storm. There is no place I can go to stay dry. If I am lucky, I only get a spray. Something I see makes me remember an unpleasant time, I frown, try to shake it off and move on with my day. However, sometimes the memories come in a wave with no warning. 

Sometimes they even happen in my sleep.

Just last night I dreamed that I was standing in front of a mirror with beautiful long hair like I used to have. I smiled at my reflection and brushed my hair behind my shoulder. I remembered the dream this morning while I was washing my hair in the shower. The whole hair thing hits me pretty hard for an odd reason. 

You see, when I first had to shave off my hair, I was devastated but I moved on as best I could. But then my mind decided to play a trick on me, using my own memory to hurt me. Did you know that the moment before you look in the mirror, your mind forms a picture of what it thinks you look like? I didn't know that either, until my hair was gone. 

I would step up to a mirror, and that image of me with hair would flash in my mind, and then I would see the real me. The me without hair. My mind would real for a moment before I realized what was happening. For a moment, it was like I was seeing myself without hair for the first time. I know my mind can not help this, but it stung in a sensitive place. 

I avoided mirrors for a long time. My mom thought it was because I didn't like how I looked without hair, but in truth I was just trying to avoid a jarring memory.

So you see, these dumb "flashbacks" happen all the time to me, and not just in front of a mirror. I donated a few of my shirts because I was very sick in the hospital while wearing them. My stomach turned when I opened my dresser drawers. I just couldn't have that.

And some times nothing in particular will trigger these thoughts. Sometimes I am just walking in the woods or sifting through Pinterest and out of nowhere I get a flashback. They are draining, hurtful, and make me want to crawl back in bed and never come out.

Yet I know I must go on. I didn't not beat cancer to be taken down by its mere memory! I am stronger than this. And if I am not, then God is stronger than this and will fight for me. I know He can not fail.

My new normal is to trust I need not fight alone.

-Rachael

It Is Time

It is easy to forget what a 21 year old should be doing. We should, in part, be having a blast during school breaks because that is the only time we get for ourselves. Last night I got to remember, and it was wonderful.

My neighbors (everyone is a neighbor in the country) threw a pool party. The air was cool but they had warmed the pool water so it didn't matter. They had glow sticks enough to make bracelets, crowns, and what ever else we could make of them. they also had a bunch of balloons filled with glow stick floating on the water. We had soda and pizza at like 11 at night. I jumped off their deck bunches of times.

The sky was so clear I could count every star. The sight stole my breath away. I had a hard time ripping my gaze off the heavens to talk to people. 

I have never been one for parties, being the introvert that I am, but at this one I had a lot of fun. The late night, with the stars and the glow sticks and all, I just couldn't help thinking these are the kinds of things I should be doing when I am 21. Not worrying over doctor visits. Not fretting about needles. Not in a constant state of think of the "what ifs" that could haunt my life. 

I guess I could have had (and did) have fun last summer, but everything felt overshadowed by my treatment. I was constantly asked, "How are you doing?" and "You are not over doing it are you?" I was the first one checked on, the first one questioned about my current condition. I do not wish to say that I should have been ignored or that I didn't think kindly on these people because they cared for me. I needed all the checking up on I could get.

But this summer... this summer I can feel things are going to be different. This summer I get to remember what it is like to be alive. My new normal is remembering that I am allowed to stay up late and have fun.

-Rachael

Because I Feel

I cried today. But it wasn't for me. I cried for a 15 year old girl who died of cancer. So young. 

I follow different people on Facebook: people who are fighting different kinds of cancer. Mostly kids and young adults. It all started when I was sick. I wanted to feel the comfort of knowing there were others fighting along side me. That there were those battling the same monsters that I was. 

Many days, it was a great encouragement. I could see them fighting and wining. I could see their smiles and their tears. Slowly I no longer began to feel that I was alone. 

But every now and then, one of them leaves this world. I had been following this sweet girl for over a year, cheering at her triumphs, crying at her pain. And now she is gone. Gone. My heart hurts in the worst sort of way. There are no words I can use to comfort myself I have no clue how her family is coping. 

I just can not help but ask, why her? Why her and not me? Why did I get to live? What was so special about me that I stay on here? I guess they call that survivor's guilt. It hurts my soul. My weary soul. 

I do my best to remember that I know not the reasons, but I know the One who does. I do not know why beautiful children die when others get to live. 

Someone told me something once on this subject that comforted me a little. She said, "Cancer never wins. If a person kills the cancer with chemo, then cancer looses. If a person dies because of cancer, the cancer still looses because the cancer dies along with the person." I try to remind myself of that today, but it is getting harder when I know I will never see this darling girl's face ever again. Cancer never wins. Ever.

Rest in peace sweet one. My heart and soul ache for you.

-Rachael

What Was And What Is (and the huge difference)

Much easier said than done. I should know. My 19th year in this world was full of "should haves." I should have been able to stay in college and not miss a year. I should have been able to stay at work and build my money. I should have been well enough to drive myself around instead of being driven to places like a 12 year old. I should have been able to go to parties and stay up late. I should have loved that summer as much as I loved the last.

And every moment, of nearly every day, what should have been was all I could think about. Even now I catch myself in the act. Just the other day I couldn't help thinking, "I should have graduated a year ago, not this year. I should already be done with my year at a university by now."

But then, life is full of should haves. And I have come to know that dwelling on the should haves never got me very far. Maybe some of those things were not meant to be. We can never really know what could have been, we can only know what is.

I look back on my should haves as if they were the perfect life that was denied to me. But nobody lives a perfect life. There would have been pain and trial in my should have life as well. I would have met up with trouble. I would have met up with tears. Only I would not have gotten to look at it as I do now, through the lens of what actually did happen.

I got cancer. It broke me. But it broke me so that I could rebuild myself into something much more. I no longer need to remember the should haves, the could have beens. No, I don't need them. I don't need them because I have something better: the what is.

And in this real and true life of mine I defeated cancer, I graduated from my community college and I did it all in the shadow of death. I could not have written a more heroic story for myself if I had tried. What I am is so much better than what I could have been. Who I am is so much better. 

Never forget to remember what is and not what should have been.

-Rachael

Some Things Stay The Same

I share this quote because I am living it. I am half agony; some days I still have to struggle by. I have to push myself to get out of bed in the morning because leg cramps and my compromised body won't get rid of a simple cold after weeks. 

And yet... I am half hope.

I am half hope for a lot of reasons. I like to think those reasons greater. So great, that one day they will push away the half agony part of me into oblivion. That cancer will be nothing more than a speck on my radar.

One of the great reasons I have cause to hope are the things that have stayed the same for me. These things are beautiful in a way I have no words to describe because I can do them the same as I could before cancer. 

And the very best of these is reading. My addiction to the written word has been one of my lifelines throughout my journey. When I was really sick, I might only be able to read a page at a time. And on days when I had spinal taps I couldn't read at all because the medicine would make me forget anything I tried to remember. And yet I still read.

It wasn't until after the worst of my chemo was over that I realized books were still the same for me. It came after a long day at school where I struggled to concentrate. I had been frustrated with my back pain and had only just been able to drive home. I kept thinking to myself, "Everything is different now. I just have to do things differently." 

Now, I am not one of those long suffering sort of people that you read about that bears a big life change, like becoming paralyzed or getting cancer, with grace. There were a lot of tears. Lots of shouts of anger and fits of rage. Lots of painful days where I avoided hard things all together, even things I liked to do, because that would mean doing them differently. And that would mean I would be reminded of the C word and how could I possibly have a good time or enjoy myself then?

So after this long day of "doing things differently" I read a book. And as I read my mind drifted for a moment to all the great books I had read and how much I liked them. And it hit me. I was enjoying this book just like I enjoyed books before. I could read just as I had. No change.

Well, perhaps there is one difference. I think I might just love books more. If that were possible.

-Rachael

Cancer Comes in All Colors

I never understood why people won't talk about cancer. Like, are they afraid they will some how get it if they talk about it? But when this went from an oddity to a tragedy for me was last summer.

I was a cabin leader at a camp. I had planed to fly under the radar with the whole cancer thing cause the week wasn't about me, it was about the kids. Well, word got around that I had cancer and at least these kids were braver than most adults I know as they came up to me and asked what type of cancer I had. Smarter than some adults I know too, but I will get to that in a moment. When I told them I had leukemia, several asked, "Where is that cancer at in your body?"

What.

I explained that it was a blood cancer, so it lived in my blood. But after they walked away I was left standing in anger, fear, and frustration. 

HOW IN THE BLOODY WORLD ARE WE SUPPOSED TO CURE CANCER IF MOST PEOPLE DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT A COMMON TYPE OF CANCER EVEN IS?!?!

I realize these were kids. But just because the name of the cancer doesn't have the place isn't an excuse. And it isn't just kids. It is adults that live in ignorance too.

My sister belongs to a website where they draw things with computer programs and post them for others to see. While I was sick, she drew an orange cause ribbon (the color for leukemia) and wrote "cure cancer" and posted it. Several people asked, "Isn't the ribbon supposed to be pink?" and "Isn't the cancer ribbon pink?"

What.

HOW IN THE WORLD ARE WE SUPPOSED TO CURE CANCER IF PEOPLE DON'T EVEN KNOW THERE IS MORE TO IT THAN BREAST CANCER?

Now, I do not want to hate on breast cancer. ALL cancer is bad. There is no such thing as a "good" or "easy" cancer. I just wish for it to be recognized in all forms. In all colors.

My new normal is living every day knowing that most people won't even talk about the thing that almost killed me. So for this reason I am as open as I can be, talk to anybody who will listen, and pray that one day the reason nobody will talk about cancer is because it is cured.

-Rachael

Hair Growth

As with many cancer survivors, I must deal with the new normal with a new head of hair. I lost mine early on and it didn't start growing back until November of 2013. 

When it grew back, I soon realized I was dealing with something different. Before my hair had been average thickness and had a slight wave. The new hair had other ideas in mind. About the only thing that is the same is the color.

My new hair came in for the first nine months VERY CURLY. Like, ringlet curls. I looked like a poodle. Or an old lady who had a perm. Both equally as bad in my opinion. I will spare you the pictures. 

And then POOF! my hair started coming in strait. I think it might be straiter than it was originally. So now I have half curly half strait hair and it looks like I either tried to curl it and gave up or tried to straiten it and gave up. Again, not good.

To top it all off, it is SO THICK now. I have to buy and use the extra large elastic hair ties to wrestle it into a ponytail. Oh, my dearest friend, ponytail, how I have missed you for the past year and a half. All those bad hair days where I had zero choices with how to fix my curly, fluffy ball of hair. Now you are the best of best friends. Never leave me. Please, I forgot how awesome you are.

Oh, and if you are wondering, my hair is the length in the picture of the left girl in the middle row. My goal at the moment it to have hair the length of the girl all the way to the right in the middle row. Three more inches. That is about 6 months because my hair grows about average which is half an inch per month. So November then.

-Rachael

Surgery and Scars

So last week I had my port taken out of my body. It was in my right chest, for those of you who are wondering. I was so excited to get it taken out, I was sobbing as I walked into surgery. I think I made all my nurses cry too.

I woke up faster than expected and we were home before dark, a big one when it comes to driving +3 to the hospital.

But it is afterward I wish to talk about. For I always felt like my port was somehow an invisible ball and chain keeping me connected to my chemo. I guess I never really noticed just how much I physically felt the dumb thing either.

Like, after the wound healed (well over a year ago) I still couldn't sleep on my stomach. It never hurt, it just felt like someone was pressing on the mussels in my chest and I could never sleep that way. So I gave up even laying on my stomach. Now I am tentatively  experimenting with it again. My body finds it odd after over two years of no stomach sleep, but I suppose I will get used to that as well.

When I had my port placed, they put a huge bandage over the site and it took a few weeks before they just pulled it off. Now they have gone back through the same scar and have only little piece of something and the rest was all skin glue.

So my new normal today includes finding some glue on my side from the heart monitor (which I somehow missed for two days on my body after I changed twice!) and scrubbing it off with viciousness the task did not require.

My new normal also includes being gentle with the site as a yellow skin has formed around it and is sensitive.

On a side note, I hope I am allowed to swim next week.

-Rachael

Welcome to the New Normal

To borrow a line from a book I like, I am both happy and sad and I am still trying to figure out how that can be. I was diagnosed with Leukemia in January of 2013. Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia to be precise. I was 18. I was scared. To death.

And then somehow, I do not know just how so do not ask, I made it. On May 27th 2015 they gave me my last round of toxic chemo, took out the port in my chest, and sent me on my way. I was cured. I was done. I felt like I was being shoved out into the world and told, "Go forth and be normal!"

But how can "normal" be when I don't even know what normal is anymore? Is it normal for a 21 year old to wake up in the morning and gasp at the wonder of a new day? To stop in the middle of a task at work and just try to take in air as I take in the idea that it is over somehow? Is it normal for a 21 year old to feel deeply indebted to God for every heartbeat and question if I am using each moment to the fullest?

I guess looking at that list, the new normal isn't so bad. It is just a lot of pressure. Like, who else do I know that got a second chance on life while they were still young? I am a living, breathing miracle, and I am still trying to learn just what that means. Nobody looks at me the same. Again, not always a bad thing, but still, the difference is sometimes unsettling. Like, all I did was survive people. I am no saint, no angle, and I do not have superpowers (as cool as that would admittedly be).

I lived. And I guess there is something special about living when everybody knew you could die. I wish to explain what it means to live on the other side of cancer, so that is why I have this blog. Maybe my thoughts could help someone else. Or maybe they will just help me. I hope they help both of us.

-Rachael