How Sweet the Sound

In the past couple days, almost every one of my patients (along with numerous community members) have brought up the "scary ebola situation" at UNMC, and then proceed to ask, "What do you think about all of this?!" In a tone of disgust. And to be honest, when I initially heard the news, my only thought was, "How awesome." But it quickly became apparent that my opinion was one of minority. So. I decided to think a little harder about how I feel. And what better way to spend a quick break between patients? (Although I do have a very nice stack of charts to catch up on!)

Now, I should probably add a disclaimer before I proceed. All of what I am about to write is my own opinion, influenced by nothing other than my own heartfelt thoughts. With that being said, I will gladly listen to "the other side" and respect any and all concerns. I just ask you do the same with me :)

First, I am frustrated by the entire situation. We finally have potentially exciting and profound news to discuss--as compared to hate crimes, continual unrest in the East, and the "tragic" death of another celebrity--yet "we" (as in news commentary, social media posts, and mainly very narrow-minded/naive citizens etc.) are still quick to point out all of the negatives.

I wish everyone would pause for a second and picture this man as their husband, father, grandfather, or son. Would they still want nothing to do with him? Wish that he would get as far away from an outstanding hospital as possible? Just let him die; it's better we only lose one versus risk the lives of many? Treat him as a "thing" instead of their loved one? I am immediately reminded of the story in the bible when Jesus heals the man with leprosy. The disfigured man was shunned. Isolated. An outcast. Yet, in God's eyes he was still His son. A man that deserved no less than everyone else. And as Christians we are taught to model the life of Jesus; be His eyes, ears, hands, and feet here on Earth. I don't think I have to spell out how He might handle this current "situation" in Omaha--it's blatantly obvious.

The entire team working here in Nebraska is to be commended. They are practicing acts of amazing grace. As medical providers we sign up for this. We take an oath proclaiming we will do all it takes to help each and every patient. Proof that love is the only evidence needed to do our work. Like I said, divine acts of amazing grace--and how sweet the sound!

Furthermore, "little, nowhere Nebraska" is now on the map for the entire world to follow. How incredible! Everyone from the suffering families in Africa, to medical professionals all over the world, along with curious citizens, are united. United in one, with one common hope: a treatment (and hopefully a cure) for one awful and deadly disease.

So today, I simply ask that you open your hearts. Find the positives. Live as Jesus would. And pray. Pray for peace on Earth--no matter the circumstance.

Amazing grace. Such a beautiful, beautiful sound.

xoxo

"I see Jesus in every human being. I say to myself, "This is hungry Jesus, I must feed him. This is sick Jesus. This one has leprosy or gangrene; I must wash him and tend to him. I serve because I love Jesus." -Mother Teresa

Neverland

Life is really fun when you live in denial. Well, not technically denial. More so just brushing things off--enjoying all of the exciting acute happenings versus tending to the chronic not-so-exciting situations. But as we all know, life in Neverland can only last so long.

It is obvious that sports play a major role in my life. The Creighton basketball season last year was one for the record books. My week out in New York City for the Big East tournament was also one for the record books. But I paid for it big time when I returned. Initially I thought I was simply exhausted from late nights celebrating victories at CenturyLink East (Madison Square Garden). But as the week went on, things quickly worsened. I finally went in for labs after a professor proclaimed, "Keri, with all do respect, you look like complete hell." (Sadly, I had actually tried to look halfway decent that day at the hospital!) Strep negative. Mono negative. But the CBC was not pretty. My white blood cells had bottomed out leaving me with hardly an immune system. A harsh reminder that as much as I try to push myself, my body will always win in the end. Time off from school was brought up by that same professor, but if you've been following my journey from the beginning, you know as well as I do that conversations of that matter do not go over well with me. I appreciated the concern, but quickly eliminated that as an option. Instead I chose to sleep even more, slow down a tad, and keep up with routine labs. Then naturally once baseball season began, my focus was on my favorite pitcher. Kyle's recruiting journey was a whirlwind. Every text was like opening a present, not knowing what exciting surprise awaited. But at the end of the day, my to-do list always seemed to include things such as: Call Dr. So&So, Schedule appointment at X, Find time to go home for overdue labs, Have the pharmacy send the new prescriptions, etc. All simple tasks, that I continually seemed to not have time to complete. Or chose to not. "Just get through this next block. Finals are only 3 months away. Summer will go by in a blink--then I'll have time." All repeated statements I used to push forward, keeping me in Neverland.

So here I sit. Summer is coming to an end. Kyle is settled and thriving at A&M. My fantasy football team is ready to go. Clinical rotations could not be going any better. Life is good! Except for that health stuff somewhere in the background. My labs have been on a roller coaster since the Spring. New doses of medications and endless blood draws. And recently, another bout of a damaged immune system. Naturally, I attributed these past few weeks of feeling crummy to a busy schedule, but nothing is improving. In fact today, I couldn't talk when I woke up, and absolutely nothing will touch the soreness and inflammation in the back of my throat. My spleen is once again enlarged, fevers constantly come and go, the wheezing has picked up, and most days I could fall asleep standing up if I just closed my eyes--even after nine hours of sleep and Starbucks' golden goodness. But I must admit, timing isn't half bad this round. Because tomorrow I begin a series of routine appointments and labs/scans/tests with my oncologists. *Pending I still have health insurance--which is an entirely different dilemma not suitable for this post. For now, I'll keep it simple and say it's been a really rough couple weeks.*

I've had a few people ask me if I'm worried. And the answer is no. Not at all. To be honest, I'm looking forward to finding answers and hopefully some relief. And as frustrating as all of this can be at times, there are many other people fighting much tougher battles than myself. One of the reasons I love medicine is that each day is so very humbling. My short time so far in the clinic has made this undoubtably apparent. And I know I've said it before, but His plans are greater. All is well, and all will be well. And maybe if I just toned down my nights at the State Fair, jamming at the various concerts, (See evidence below. Brought to you from the second row at Styx.) and dancing away in the Nebraska Good Life beer garden, just maybe I would feel a tad better. But what fun is life if you're not living it to the fullest?!

Which reminds me, I need to find one of those magical fairies so I can fly with the lost boys ;) See you in Neverland!

xoxo

He's My Best Friend

Yikes. January? Was that truly the last time I posted? Can't be. Yet the more mind-blowing thought is, January 31st feels like yesterday. (For the record, my heart still has not fully healed from the Super Bowl that weekend. Don't bring it up.) And as you can probably assume, there is quite a bit to update, but today is not the day for medical jargon. This post is for my most favorite person. My go to guy. The hardest working man, and the most deserving; yet he takes no credit. My little brother. My best friend.

One of my excuses for not making the time to write is that I have taken every opportunity possible to spend time with that brother of mine, on and off the field. Going into this season, we all knew big things were going to happen, and big changes were to come as far as his future in baseball. But I don't think any of us could have predicted the grand slam of events that has occurred over the past 5 months.

For those of you that are 'Facebook official friends' with me, I'm sure your news feed has been bombarded with pictures, stats, newspaper articles, and award announcements. And you are probably also familiar with my dream of being an ESPN sideline reporter, so special thanks to my brother for allowing me to be his personal Erin Andrews these past few months. I don't plan on retiring anytime soon, so take this as your warning if you were annoyed.

Having my best friend home these past 5 weeks has been incredible. (Even if I am a full time student in the bordering state to the North... Who likes summer breaks anyway? Ha.) For the past 18 summers he has spent most nights under the lights at the local ballpark. So naturally, that's where my nights were spent as well when my own athletic/academic/social calendars would allow. But he was finally given a much needed prescription for some R&R. This past season his arm produced 13 starts that all resulted in a W, endless broken records, various awards (National Pitcher of the Year, First Team All-American, First Team-All Conference, etc.), months of recruiting calls, trips all over the country, and phenomenal scholarship offers most baseball players only dream of receiving. So as I eluded to, taking the summer "off" was more than deserved.

However. Being home has been somewhat of a curse, too. The poor guy has been pulled in so many directions by family, friends from all over, and other locals hoping to find their way into his short time back. A strong pull without a doubt came from me as well. Every week became the same:  work ahead and study all day so that my weekends were "free" to pack up and head home. While at times very stressful, I wouldn't have it any other way! The memories made have been ones to cherish:  days lounging in the pool, rounds on the golf course, time on the water at the lake, gym sessions, dancing away at weddings, nights out at local bars because he finally turned 21 in May, sharing laughs when someone knew all about him and bought him a celebratory drink, only to unfortunately have no idea who that kind individual was after the fact, cheering on little league teams at the park where it all began, and lazy evenings on the patio BBQ'ing, watching sports, or simply enjoying time together as a family.

And throughout all of this time together, it has been amusing to hear friends of mine share their observations about the relationship the two of us share. Most comments have been along the lines of:
"I knew you two were close, but it is so cool to see the way you interact together." 
"I'm starting to see the side of him you've always shared stories about, and I love it!"
"What you two have, is what I've always wanted with my siblings. So jealous."
"I've never seen you laugh as hard as I did last night when we were out and you two were together."

Talk about words that warm the heart. Because I don't think I even realized just how unique the bond is between he and I. Truly the best of friends. But I should probably note that as with all things in life, we are far from perfect. In fact, this past weekend (our last together before he moves to Texas) we hit a rocky patch one night. And not just little pebbles, big boulders. Something that hasn't happened in a very long time. When something ends in me not even speaking, we all know thats quite a feat in itself! And it made me sick. Literally ill. Even a round of golf with friends couldn't bring me out of the funk. I couldn't bear the thought of our last weekend stained by such an unfortunate situation. So. It was time for a resolution.

A quick text to him while he was at the lake:
"Ey. Yo. Ky. Hope you're having such a great time! I'm going back tomorrow instead of tonight. So. You and I have a little drive/jam sesh/resolution/peace date later tonight when you're home. Get excited. xo, sista lion"

His response: (which I was so nervous to read!)
"Yo yo Keri. Perfect, I would love to! I'll let you know when I'm headed back. Not much gas left in the boat so it won't be too much longer. See ya soon. Love ya!"

And just like that a weight was already lifted. That evening, we packed a couple beers. Loaded up our dog in the truck. And headed out West to the country. Sitting on the bed of his truck surrounded by corn fields, we watched a storm roll in while playing favorite tunes. We talked about his big move to Texas this week, shared funny stories from the weekend, and most importantly apologized. Made amends. We found peace.

So today, I am feeling extra grateful for my little brother, the rare relationship we have, and the joy he brings to my life. It definitely won't be an easy adjustment come moving day. As I said, having him around has been such a blessing, and now we face more of the curse in having to hug one last time until I hop on a plane and visit Aggieland before rotations begin in August.

Below is a picture we took together last night while sitting on his truck. Here's to an exciting future at Texas A&M. Many more memories. And the reminder that love really does hurt sometimes, but it's nothing an evening together can't fix. Here's to my best friend.

Cheers.

Is It Sunday Yet?!

These past two weeks have felt entirely too long. After a dominating win against the Patriots in the AFC Championship game, the Broncos punched their ticket to Super Bowl XLVIII. And if you know me at all, I have been a Denver fan dating back to the glory days that were John Elway. In fact, one of my first outfits after I was born was an orange #7 onesie.

It is also safe to say, I have a slight addiction to sports in general. For as long as I can remember, they have been a major part of my life, either by participating or attending. And while I wouldn't trade this personality trait for anything, it hasn't always been a "win" as a female. I read an interesting post on my twitter feed the other day, and it inspired me to write my own thoughts about this topic.

So here it goes:

10 Trials Faced By Female Sports Fans

1. No, I am not watching this game/checking scores to impress a male. My ESPN app alerts me in true "duh nuh nuh, duh nuh nuh" fashion often enough as it is with my own team loyalties to even think about keeping track of some potential crush's teams, in hopes he will notice and instantly fall head over heels. Sorry, guys. But on that same note, the day I start to take interest in your teams other than my own, get excited. That's a definite sign I think you're pretty cool.
2. Studying must be structured around game time. Physician Assistant school is challenging to say the least. But that has not stopped me from being successful in the classroom and catching each game. For example:  I have an orthopedic physical exam test out on Monday, and our final orthopedic block exam on Tuesday. And of course, the Super Bowl is Sunday night. What's a true fan to do? Turn down offers to social events both Friday and Saturday for dates with notes and books instead, so that when Sunday at 4pm comes, the rest of the night can be devoted to the big game. Most would think that's lame and anti-social. Me? The perfect set-up for a productive and prioritized weekend.
3. All trips/vacations require a sporting event of some sort. The minute it's announced we're traveling somewhere as a family, you can be sure I am checking out the schedules of the local teams. Or packing my golf clubs. On the same token, if I have an extended weekend or vacation opportunity, it's safe to bet I'm filling it with a random trip to New Orleans to watch LSU take on Texas A&M (this past November) or planning a Spring Break trip (this March) to NYC to watch the Bluejays at Madison Square Garden in the Big East tournament. And I'll be honest, it can be a challenge to find traveling companions, especially girls. Most don't have arenas and baseball fields on the top of their "Sites to See" list. 
4. Falling out of the loop on "normal" girl things. Friend: Are you coming over tonight!? Me: I was just going to ask you about your plans! Friend: Yay! The Bachelor premier starts at 7pm, so we're getting together for dinner before at 6pm. Me: Wait a minute. The Bachelor? I was referring to your plans for the National Championship game... It's a classic case of misunderstanding. Which then leads to politely declining invitations for Girls Nights, and finding other plans for big sporting events. 
5. Pink team apparel. Absolutely unacceptable. Unless the players are also wearing pink in honor of a special circumstance/disease. Coaches vs. Cancer? Love it. Such an incredible event for everyone involved. Wearing a pink Lebron jersey on game day? Take your pretty rhinestones and walk right back out of the arena. 
6. Keeping track of Fantasy teams and Pick Em' pools. There's an app for that. And thankfully too! I can't tell you how many Sunday's in church the panicked thought of "Uh oh. I don't have all of my starters all arranged yet!" rushed through my head. As soon as mass was over, you could find me in my car quickly adjusting my roster before the first Sunday snap. Another great save was the March Madness Live app last basketball season. My mom and I had tickets to a cousin's musical, and as luck would have it, the Jays played at the exact same time. Solution? Arrive with a fully charged phone, turn the backlight down to just a dim, mute the sound, sit towards the back, and watch both at the same time. Winning x2!
7. Stadium food. One of the main reasons I sweat for at least an hour everyday at the gym. Please do not for a second think that I will be ordering a salad during the game. Life is far too short to miss out on the delicious stadium classics. The same goes for alcohol. Unfortunately, (thanks to Celiac disease) I can't just "grab a beer," but Limón and water or a G&T are perfect compliments when the game clock starts. 
8. Yes, the players are often nice to look at, but... That is far from the reason I am watching the game. Trust me, I am the first to admit Eric Decker is beautiful. But that face will not make up for a dropped pass thrown right to his hands. Because when he scores a touchdown, or Adam Scott sinks a long birdie putt, they are oh so much more attractive than they appear! 
9. I will take the game personally. In the grand scheme of things, it is "just a game." But that does not change the fact that my heart aches at every turnover, or shatters when a big game results in a loss. I will always love my teams, but I will not like them very much when their performance is sub-par. Irrational? Maybe. But, it's just the way it is. True love isn't always pretty.
10. My main source of news is SportsCenter. And I wouldn't have it any other way! Top10 and Not Top10 are always a pleasure to watch, and I have not found any other show in the morning that is better to get ready to. I might be a little behind on worldly things, but that's what Forbes, United Nations, CNN, and Pope Francis twitter accounts are for. 

All in all, you should probably just like the same teams I do. Life will be easier. Tension will fade. And my trash talking will tone way down. Plus, when both of our teams are playing at the same time, you can guarantee I will win the battle of what we watch ;)

And there you have it. The struggles faced by a truly passionate (female) sports fan. All that's left to say is:

GO BRONCOS!!!!!!

Woman of Strength

I am speechless. I know, I know. Something many of you would say is impossible! I will admit, I am not normally one at a loss for words. Today I am.

January 9th (today) marks the two year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. That's 730 days. And that's one difficult thing to wrap my mind around. As cliché as it is, that day feels like yesterday. Every emotion, action, and response of family members and loved ones, is replaying in my mind like a broken record.

And honestly, I am a little frozen. (I'm going to blame the frigid wind outside for some of that.) I wish I had some sort of emotion to write of, but I sit here like a snowman. Round and present, but without true feeling. I came across a note sent to me by a sweet girl shortly after I was diagnosed. It is one I have re-read many times as reminder, and I feel it accurately reflects my journey the past two years:

A Woman of Strength

A strong woman works out every day to keep her body in shape...

but a woman of strength kneels in prayer to keep her soul in shape.

A strong woman isn't afraid of anything...

but a woman of strength shows courage in the midst of her fear.

A strong woman won't let anyone get the best of her...

but a woman of strength gives the best of her to everyone.

A strong woman makes mistakes and avoids the same in the future...

but woman of strength realizes life's mistakes can also be God's blessings and capitalizes on them.

A strong woman walks sure foetidly...

but a woman of strength knows God will catch her when she falls.

A strong woman wears the look of confidence on her face...

but a woman of strength wears grace.

A strong woman has faith that she is strong enough for the journey...

but a woman of strength has faith that it is in the journey that she will become strong.

And after reading that again today, I've created a list of things cancer has done, but also one in which cancer has not.

Cancer has:

• put my body through hell
• built a wall shielding me from others in fear 
• questioned my confidence daily
• taught me lesson after lesson of mistakes made
• made my approach of situations one of caution and uncertainty
• forced a smile on my face because it's easier than the alternative
• tested my strength each and every day 

Cancer has not:

• put my soul through hell, thanks to the power or prayer
• made relationships with loved ones crumble; yet, grown them to new heights
• taken my confidence, in that I find happiness in giving my best to everyone/everything daily
• diminished my hope; all those mistakes have been graces from above
• made me weak; instead, made me free to fall into God's hands, with certainty He will catch me
• removed the love in my heart or the reflection of joy and grace I face the world with each day
• ruined my journey; it has been such a wonderful blessing in disguise 

So today, I am celebrating. Celebrating the strength I have been given and gratitude for the adventure. After a couple appointments back home over the holidays, it was decided I definitely need to see a thoracic oncologist for analysis of my large collection of scans and tests regarding my thymus. After returning from Mayo, the believed miracle lost its sparkle. Both radiology reports indicated "prominent thymus still present in anterior thyroid bed, particularly on the left, consistent with previous scans." Now you don't have to be a medical genius to know that no where in there did it say it "decreased in size" or "significantly shrank as compared to previous scans." Additionally, my endo/thyroid oncologist at Mayo was adamant about a certain medication I was on causing the enlargement. But after further thought, the timeline doesn't match up. My thymus was very much enlarged prior to taking that medication, any medication for that matter. The enlargement was seen shortly after radiation. A period when I had not been on medication for about 6 weeks. So, I have been in the waiting period again. January 17th is my appointment, and from there a decision will be made on the progression of our plan. Unfortunately, if surgery is indicated, I have absolutely no clue when that will take place. School is back in full force and the warnings from faculty are countless; this will be a rough go around. 

But for now, I am celebrating. Two years or 730 days of strength. And that is a beautiful thing! 

xoxo

Sunlit Serenity

Life is weird. And I think God likes it that way. As I sit on the boardwalk along a beautiful beach in Jacksonville (awaiting the arrival of my brother and grandparents later this evening), sipping a refreshing cucumber mojito, admiring the mighty ocean, yet calming sounds, I simply smile and laugh. Just hours ago I was flying high above the clouds. It was the perfect vantage point. Somehow, thanks to the help of physics, I was above the sun as it broke the horizon. The ground and early sky were on fire. It reminded me of the opening scene in The Lion King when Simba is presented to the world on Pride Rock. Again, I was peering out the window, lightly chuckling to myself. Prior, on the way to the airport from the hotel, a stranger and I struck up conversation. I shared I was a PA student and she proceeded to tell me both her daughter and daughter-in-law are physician assistants. She continued on about each of their stories and how they ended up where they are today. So weird. I say that because it was only hours prior that I was lying in the hotel bed, planning/thinking through/analyzing fearfully, what my next round of school will entail. God knew I needed to meet that woman in the wee morning hours. And I needed to hear her stories. (And I really needed to be sleeping instead of worrying, because all it left me with was heavy eyes and dark circles—thanks to a whopping 3 hours of sleep.) And while I probably will never see her again, she was a tiny miracle. She offered serenity.

To add to my “life is weird” collection, I opened my Jesus Calling daily devotional on the plane and its words fit perfectly, as usual. Speaking of growing closer to His constant presence in our lives, and how we are continually showered, like rays of sunlight, with His blessings and miracles, we just need the eyes to see and ears to hear. And let me tell you, this glistening sunlight tingling my skin, is pure heaven. Finally, just prior to my decision to write, I pulled out one of the books I have been eagerly waiting to read, The Fault in Our Stars. Smack dab in the middle of one of the first pages was “thyroid cancer” blaring back at me, as if those two words were formatted 10x the size, bolded, highlighted, and underlined twice. At the same time, my favorite song, “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles, started playing. A few pages later? The Serenity Prayer. And for those whom may be unfamiliar, here it is:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage the change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

So you see, God was really enjoying Himself today; coming up with numerous ways to announce a message I indeed needed repeated:  take delight in the sun and find serenity.

After the joyous chaos of the holidays, I think everyone needs that reminder. While we all like to believe extra time off work, families gathering, and mounds of food and presents will bring peace and happiness, I believe if people were truly honest with themselves, this might just be a hoax. Now, a quick disclaimer, I am not a Scrooge or the Grinch. I love the holidays as much as Cindy Lou Who, but I am also very aware of the pain they can cause—some years more than others.

Beginning with Thanksgiving, my family’s longstanding holiday traditions started to shift. Everything from little things like what songs my grandmother wanted to hear me play on the piano, to really big things like the absence of a family member. Naturally, an array of emotions clung to each change. And I think it’s safe to say my mother, uncle, brother, and myself all took unspoken turns at being the glue holding it all together. Because that’s what change requires; a deep inner strength and confidence that, for some reason, this is exactly how things are supposed to be. A common phrase became of all this—we called it “our new normal.”

It should have been of no surprise today that The Serenity Prayer was exactly what my heart needed last night/early this morning. As a child, my parents spoke of it frequently and lived it daily, for reasons I would not come to understand until high school. And with the diagnosis of cancer, now almost 2 years ago (so hard to believe!), my mom reiterated its importance and it became an immediate rock in my daily life, too. With major changes in our lives more recently, it has once again proven steadfast as a powerful source of strength and hope.

So today, while I sit here admiring the view and laughing at the weirdness of life, stirred up by the hand of God, my prayer for each of you is this:

I pray you had a wonderful holiday. And that if your traditions were a little “off” this year, that you can find the hidden grace and joys  “a new normal” brings. I pray that you see the many beautiful rays of reasons to be happy. Those little blessings in disguise. And may the New Year bring serenity to your heart.

Sun Kissed,

Keri

Mother Mayo Miracle

It is incredible how much emotion and anticipation comes with a knock at the door while waiting in an exam room. Lately at school, we have been testing out in clinical settings and play the role of the provider. Naturally this includes knocking on the door prior to entering. Pure instinct. Yet, regardless of which side of the door you are on, that all too familiar sound can evoke every emotion.

Today that knock held the results of a full day of blood work, tests, and scans completed yesterday. (I knew the results of my labs prior to the appointment as I had logged into my patient account early this morning. But, my radiology reports had not been posted yet—probably a good thing.) Also, I had a pretty good sense of things after my ultrasound yesterday. It is obvious when the technician finds something concerning because her mannerisms change, and so do the sounds on the machine. And being the inquisitive (sneaky, really) person I am, I bluntly asked her if my thymus was still enlarged; knowing full well she cannot disclose that information. We had a brief discussion, mostly me answering her vague yet obvious questions, and that was it. Poor woman. She was doomed the minute she was assigned to me. Disclaimer:  I promise I am a very kind and respectful patient, just sometimes a little too smart for my own good! Anyway, I left knowing my thymus was definitely still present.

Which brings me to today. That knock. Surgery? Lymphoma? Thymoma? Chemo? None of the above? All very possible differentials.

This is about how it went:

(Knock, Knock)

Dr. Dean: “Good morning, Keri. It’s good to see you again.”

Me: “Good morning Dr. Dean. It’s good to see you too.”

Dr. Dean: “Let’s go over things."

       (Still no indication either way of the results! She’s a tough one.)

“It turns out 11/12/13 is your day. Things look great! You are what we call a ‘Mother Mayo Miracle.’

Me: “Wait. What?”

Dr. Dean: “You are a ‘Mother Mayo Miracle!’ Your labs are right where I want them, and your CT and Ultrasound show improvement.”

Me: “So my thymus has gone down? But what about it showing up on the Ultrasound?”

Dr. Dean: “It is still there but has not enlarged further and has decreased in size. It has proven well to hold on surgery and just observe. Our ‘Mother Mayo Miracle.”

We went on to discuss the various symptoms I have been experiencing and the potential reasoning behind them. All valid concerns to monitor, which will take place with various physicians back home. But at the same time, she could not have been more excited. This tiny but mighty physician, whom one would never want to cross, was elated! So relieved, so happy—a complete 180° difference from my appointment prior and during phone conversations. What this all means, simply stated, is that I have a full Christmas break to look forward to WITHOUT opening up my chest to take that bizarre thymus out. (Please pass the tequila, it’s time to celebrate!!!) Such a relief. Calls to loved ones were made, and cheers + tears of excitement were the common response. Praise God. Follow-up of my lungs, thyroid bed nodules, and thymus will continue. But we are strictly in watch mode. And that is a beautiful thing!

I have never thought about what it would be like to be a “Mother Mayo Miracle.” But I do know it is a title I will happily accept! But I didn’t do anything. Sure I have altered my diet significantly in the past 4 months, throwing every helpful aid my immune system’s way. Along with my daily workouts and appropriate vitamins and minerals. But even so, things have not been ideal on a daily basis. So you see, I am not the ‘Miracle.’ It is you. Your prayers. And the love of God above. Your constant compassion and support, and His unfailing promise, have earned the title of “Mother Mayo Miracle.” And for that, I am most grateful. Those daily gratitude posts on social media throughout the month of November? That is all fine and dandy. But sorry guys, I win.

11/12/13:  I am grateful for being a “Miracle.”

xoxo,

Keri Ellen