January 9th.

Call me crazy, but every year on January 9th, I dive into my medical records and review the details of (and what subsequently changed nearly everything) my diagnosis of the "c word."

January 9th. My Cancerversary.

It comes yearly without fail. And I could retell every minute of that day without error. Amazing how one day, which I would assume is overlooked by most people, has burned such a mark in my life. So much has changed. It forces me to stop and reflect. To look back on all the chaos of these past 4 years, and remind me that there is so darn much to be lived going forward. Because to be frank, being labeled a "cancer patient" only served as the initiating snowball of what soon became an avalanche involving various aspects of my life. It was one big blizzard. And at times, it most certainly did feel like a white-out with no end. Yet, that is why I love today so much.

January 9th naturally brings with it some pain and frustration, but more than anything, it defines strength and gratitude. How blessed I am to leisurely sit here with my fresh brewed coffee, celebrating how far I have come over the years. And I know others with a "____versary" date, do the same. My wish is for majority of people, their "day" is a triumphant feeling, like mine. And my heart breaks for those who's "day" teeter-totters to the side of pain and sadness.

To briefly update, I am currently trying to find the best time to make my way home for almost over-due lab tests and diagnostic scans. (On that note, if anyone wishes to donate a private plane for use when needed, I would forever be indebted to you ;) But I am feeling the best I have in a very long time, which most certainly is a victory! Unfortunately, cancer doesn't "hurt" or make itself known well until later, so the time around appointments is consistently filled with a little anxiety. Regardless, "all is well and all will be well." (to quote my sweet mother.)

January 9th. The day I celebrate simply being. And while I annually reread all clinic/hospital notes and results--as any medical nerd would-- I also make my way through a very large stack of cards sent to me from y'all during this time 4 years ago. I absolutely love a handwritten letter. So much so that I have a kept a special box to hold each card in over the years. In fact, it's almost time to find a bigger one. A problem I don't mind one bit! So thank you. Thank you for the support then, and for the yearly reminder of how many wonderful people there are in this world. I am alive; therefore, I am blessed.

xoxo

Letting the Waves Settle

"She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her away, she adjusted her sails." -Elizabeth Edwards

Goodness it is good to write again. Since June, aka my last post, things have been a tad...crazy--in an absolutely stressful and wonderful way! If that makes any sense at all. From finishing school, preparing for and taking boards--all while packing to move to the very edge of the East coast--squeezing in any available time with loved ones, visits with all my doctors, a two day adventure across the country with my momma, one quick weekend to get adjusted before beginning my career, and then cramming as much dermatology into my brain as humanly possible to prep for now, when I have patients scheduling appointments to see me. I am finally at "now."

As I reflect back on the past 3 months, I can't help but feel a little lost. Where did all that time go? How in the world is my birthday in one week, which has always signaled the start of the holiday season? What all have I missed or forgotten to do? What I do know is that somehow I made it to the now, and it feels so dang good to take one long deep breath and simply enjoy the calming of the waves. Which speaking of waves, have I mentioned how unbelievable it is to live at the beach? To be honest, I am not entirely sure I could have made it to now without the help of ocean salts in my nose, the sand between my toes, and the calming effect of crashing waves. Free therapy at its finest. Visitors are always welcome ;)

With the "now" comes so much gratitude. My career in dermatology could not be off to a better start. I love every minute of my clinic days--yes, even the frustration that accompanies any medical field. I cannot tell you how many times I answer the question, "What in the world brought you all the way from Nebraska?!" And I smile. Because the simple answer is "the beach and this job opportunity." Which is true. But deep down it was the burning need to get away. To explore a new area. To admittedly, be selfish. And not selfish in a negative way, but in such a way that it was time to take care of myself a bit. To just breathe and enjoy the now.

But the past few days, I have really struggled. I am continually reminded at how undeservedly blessed I am. For example, a few thoughts that wage battle in my mind:  How is it that I am able to decide if red or white wine will be best with our Thanksgiving meal? Not the thought of if I'll even have food on the table. Or here I am leisurely sitting at a vineyard, listening to live music while sipping wine, with no fear of danger, while others are fleeing for their lives. What makes me so special to have such a supportive, God-loving, handsome man by my side? Instead of a terror that takes advantage of my gender. How did I end up with my dream job? Why did I have such a remarkable childhood, with loving family that I miss daily? And to be completely honest, it's simply not fair.

What I cannot seem to accept is why God gave me this life. I had absolutely zero control of who my mother and father were, the morals they would instill, the home to keep me warm. No control over the fact that I was born in a society where education is so readily available, allowing me to achieve my dreams. No control over my home country being one in which constant danger (in most cases) is not the norm. Where I am allowed to praise the One above all else without fear of death. And now, living in a town on the beach with new friends that quickly became family. Why was I given this life full of constant blessing? Because absolutely no one deserves to live in persecution, fear, horror, hardship, and pain. Yet, it is all over. Stories, daily, highlight the turmoil of this Earth. And I think that is where I have to give it all to Him. All the praise for this life I live. All the heartache I feel when I see what others must endure, yet initially had no control over when they entered this world. All the gratitude for what I have been given. And all the fears that may be.

Now not to be mistaken, I too have things I could complain about. But how awful of me to think that my problems are in any way worth feeling sorry for myself. Not going to happen. Instead, I insist on finding the good. Rejoicing in the beauty that surrounds me daily. And knowing that He gave it all.

May you each have a relaxing and joyous Thanksgiving, surrounded by the ones you love most. I pray you each feel as blessed as I do this holiday season.

All my love.
xoxo

They Say, "It's Just a Game."

They say, "It's just a game."

I dare you to speak those words to any one of the A&M baseball players today. Or even, any of their family members. I would be willing to bet, the reaction you would get would be nothing short of dumbfounded.

It starts at a young age. Little League dreamers. Never to be found without a bat and ball. Living for those nights under the lights. Entering the gates of the College World Series in June with wide eyes and excitement that would send any ball out of the park. And the only thing on their mind is the hope of one day playing for a National Championship, themselves.

Years pass by and suddenly they are putting on a jersey, with the name of their dream University embroidered across the front. The small crowds of parents and loved ones, turn into thousands cheering on their favorite school. Along with that comes the fact that you will either be their hero or talk of the town when you make a mistake. There is no middle ground. The love brings with it scrutiny. "You are paid in scholarships to succeed. It can't be that hard. Just hit the ball and throw strikes."

But there is so much more to the game fans watch on a Friday night. The "behind the scenes" that only family members and teammates truly understand. The 5:30am lifts followed by team conditioning. A packed academic schedule from 8am-1pm, followed by a long afternoon of practice. Quick dinner and then study hours. Repeat. 5 days a week. And obligations in the community on weekends. Otherwise, hopping on a plane or traveling by bus to take on the next opponent. Down time? It doesn't exist. (Trust me, it's hard enough just getting a phone call or Facetime session in once a week.) Off season? If you think intense Marine-led workouts and team scrimmages for starting spots, counts. But, "It's just a game."

Sacrifices are made by the families, too. The expense of traveling each weekend to cheer on your favorite players. Dealing with the press and publicity, along with small talk heard when the gossipers don't realize you are related to one of the players. The stress that naturally accompanies games, or the constant "what if" fear that they, God-forbid, would be injured. And then the losses. A pain that cannot be put into words. Especially the big ones. The season-ending, dream crushing, 16 inning, 6+ hour games, that come up just short of achieving the dream of playing in Omaha. Supposedly, "It's just a game."

Last night still stings. And I cannot even begin to speak for how those players are feeling today. Their raw posts on social media are heartbreaking. A season that ended too soon. It wasn't supposed to be that way. And yet, today they are left with making big time decisions about what to do with their careers. Accept the draft spot when the phone call comes (which you only have seconds to decide), or stay and put on that jersey for another year? While it is a great position to be in, it's one that I do not envy in the least. Come on, "It's just a game."

The hardest part of the loss last night, is the realization that I will never watch that same set of boys take the field together. Ask anyone, they were a special group. One with heart and class. Each a follower of Christ, playing for His glory. Their demeanor on the field was top notch, and off the field they were true gentlemen. Often rare, these days, amongst athletes. They gave it everything they had, and made myself and every other fan, as proud as we've ever been.

You see, it is not "just a game." It is a family, a community, a discipline, a glorification of the gifts they were given, an unbeatable bond, and memories that will last forever. Baseball has always held our family together through the good and bad. It has been our common ground when things are shaky. And I can promise you, it is so much more than "just a game."

To the Aggie baseball team, thank you. Thank you for your relentless effort and dedication. Thank you for the thrills. Keep your chins up. 

And to #14. I have told you once, and I will continue you tell you, how so incredibly proud and honored I am to call you my brother. This is only the beginning, bud. Keep dreaming. And trust His plan. I love you.

 ✖️⚾️✖️⚾️ 

Beauty Marks

Scar.

If you look it up in the dictionary you find:

scar  [skahr] 

  

noun

1.

a mark left by a healed wound, sore, or burn.

2.

a lasting aftereffect of trouble, especially a lasting psychological injury resulting from suffering or trauma.

3.

any blemish remaining as a trace of or resulting from injury or use.

I am sure many of you can quickly point to any number of physical scars on your body and take a walk down memory lane, retelling every detail of how that keloid (build-up of tissue) made its mark on your once flawless skin. Then there's those emotional scars that only you can truly feel. They leave their mark on your heart, only visible if you allow them to be.

Regardless of the type, each brings pain. In some situations, such as in the "traumatic boo-boo" experienced by a 3 year old, the pain lasts a mere 7 seconds before all is well. Others, however, take years to heal. And even then some do not truly disappear, you just adjust and accept things as they now are.

And regardless of the type, they are not what I would call "fun." (Unless of course you fought off a shark attacking your family while snorkeling in the Cayman Islands, and lived to tell your heroic story.) Personally, my scars aren't the most appealing to the general public. They are rough, some might call them a stroke of bad luck, carry with them a wide range of emotions, and are continually with me on a daily basis. Yet they make up exactly who I am.

This past January, I celebrated my 3 Year Cancerversary. I still cannot wrap my mind around that fact. January 9th, 2012 feels like yesterday. Every detail still clear as day. Yet so much has changed. And today marks the final day of my radiation treatment protocol that year, as well. Scars. Ever present.

But scars are beauty marks. They show character. Determination. Fight. Resillience. And strength. The best part? God loves them. Honestly! Not too long ago, I was listening to a sermon at church. We were told, "In the end, we will be judged by our scars." At first, it was puzzling. Why would our scars hold such a value? Especially when some could be self-inflicted by sin. But the more I thought, the more it made sense. Scars also require the trust of His plan. One of my favorite quotes by Mother Teresa is, "I know God will never give me more than I can handle. I just wish He didn't trust me so much." Because no matter the circumstance, we will be given the gifts and blessings necessary to fulfill His plan for our lives. And what a beautiful sense of relief that provides!

With the turning of the new year, so much has been uncharted territory. Confusion about what to do with my current medications--as laboratory results continue to be puzzling, insurance uncertainties, ever-changing medical rotations, family struggles, the beginning steps of communication with a lost loved one, and the common fear of the unknown. And all of these situations can be attributed to some scar or another, or have created a new. But if I stop and surrender my life to His loving arms, I find peace within myself. And it is good.

Wishing you all a blessed start to 2015 and the prayer that you may come to see His continual gifts and blessings surrounding you daily.

xoxo

Below is picture of me in "isolation" post-radiation 3 years ago. 

It's funny--just today I was complaining about how much progress I need to make in a few areas and then one look at old photos and it puts it all into perspective. 

Oh the inside jokes associated with this! Laughter truly is the best medicine. 

Grateful Wishes

I should first begin by wishing each of you a Happy Thanksgiving! I hope it was a day filled with simple joys and stretchy pants.

Each year, my birthday falls on or within a few days of this wonderful holiday. And each year I am continually reminded of how truly blessed I am to have so much to be grateful for and the happiness that filled each day of the past year. Not to mention, the excitement and anticipation another trip around the sun holds!

In honor of the two celebrations, I thought I would put together a post full of all I am so very thankful for, and then in turn, how those warm thoughts become birthday wishes for my upcoming 25th year on this Earth.

First and foremost, I am grateful for my relationship with our Lord Jesus Christ. While each day always possess something to smile about, I would be lying if I told you there were never any frowns. But in those moments, it's my relationship with Him that keeps me strong. I often wonder how those without belief in a higher power make it through the struggles of this life. I, myself, know I would surely crumble. My birthday wish is for continual trust and guidance in His plan for the beautiful life He promises each of us.

Secondly, I am grateful for love. Obviously the love of my family and friends, but that of total strangers as well. I know I can always count on an incredible support system for courage--and of course, a good laugh. But it's those random acts of kindness I witness daily that give me such a fuzzy feeling inside. Love is a verb. Yes, it is very much an emotion, but when that feeling is translated into an action, the magic that happens is breathtaking. My birthday wish is for each one of you to experience such a pure and powerful love.

I am also grateful for my education. Many times people (myself included) curse long nights of studying and the continual stress to perform. But I could not be more thankful for my medical education. Seeing all I have learned, put into practice each day in the clinic, is beyond rewarding. An education is something no one can ever take from you. And something people in third world counties die (literally) to obtain. How lucky we are here in the States with such freedom. My birthday wish is that all those striving for knowledge, will be given the opportunity to attain it. And personally, for continued success and clarity of future educational/career opportunities upon graduation in July. (Eek!)

Next, I cannot be more grateful for my health. Often people say, "How lucky you were to have caught the cancer early." And they could not be more correct. I thank God daily for His hand in this journey. Especially this past month. When I posted earlier in November, I had randomly come across an unusual lump in the midline of my neck and was awaiting upcoming appointments and tests. It was unilateral, painful with certain movements, and in a location where very little could go wrong aside from malignancy. Even my "you're fine" medical friends (we all have a strange mindset wherein nothing is ever truly wrong) were concerned. But thanks be to God's protection and care, the mass checked out as benign; something we will continue to follow but is of little concern at this point. Praise heaven! What a giant relief that news was for myself and loved ones. So, my birthday wish is for a year of wellness, and the healing of every body. It is my pet peeve when people complain about "getting another year older." The American Cancer Society has a motto that I adore:  Helping to create more birthdays. The celebration of a birthday, is a celebration of another year of memories; something to be cherished--not dreaded. I still act like an overly excited child when November 29th rolls around! And I do not foresee that changing anytime soon :)

And finally, I am grateful for simple joys. I make it my M.O. (modus operandi--latin for method of operation) to take notice of all the little pleasures. It's those things we take for granted that others are praying for daily. Because when you truly pause and look around, life is pretty amazing. And I can assure you, it's those simple joys that fill a heart with so much happiness. My birthday wish is for each of you to notice the little things. Your heart will thank you.

My last wish is in the form of a prayer. Enjoy. And blessings this holiday weekend! xoxo

May God grant: 

Lucky stars above you. 

Sunshine on your way. 

Many friends to love you.

Joy in work and play.

Laughter to outweigh each care.

In your heart a song.

And gladness waiting everywhere,

all your whole life long!

-Irish Blessing

An adorable (gluten-free) birthday cake from my sweet mother. 

Africa in the Heartland

November is one of my most favorite months of the year. The weather is crisp and leaves are still changing. Starbucks brings out their festive red holiday cups. (I may be sipping from one as we speak...) Fireplaces are lit. A really special girl has a birthday at the end the month. ;) And I love witnessing the heightened sense of gratitude amongst everyone in the days leading up to Thanksgiving.

Gratitude. A simple word, with such a profound meaning. And a very difficult emotion to embrace at times.

This past month has been full of trials and tribulations. Or as my current psychiatric patients often say, "Well. Life happened," when explaining how they ended up at an inpatient psychiatric hospital...for the eighth time. So, I am going to take their words and keep it simple by saying, "Life is happening." And while majority of the time, I know without a doubt I am far more blessed than I deserve; yet, I would be lying if I did not admit that my strength has been tested, and the decision to stop carrying a few crosses needed to be made--or I might have found my name on the psych hospital daily rounds list!

One of my "coping strategies" (a strategy taught daily to my patients) when things are not pretty and peaceful, is to wish I was in Africa. Back to the place where my heart has never felt such an overwhelming happiness. The problem with my strategy, though, is obvious. Hopping on a plane and embarking over the Atlantic Ocean for a few days of therapy is only realistic if you are Angelina Jolie. While I may be as stunningly beautiful as her (ha kidding, of course!), I definitely do not have the means on all accounts. So. I have decided to bring my Africa to the Heartland. Incorporating all of the features that filled my soul with pure joy, into my daily life here.

Today I re-read the journal entries from my mission trip. Here is what I noted as things I would miss upon my return home:

• Beauty of the land.
• Laid back lifestyle. 
• How the faces of each patient lit up when I smiled. 
• No obligations. Only to love.
• Opportunities left and right to make a remarkable difference in the lives of others. 
• African music. 
• Excited of the children yelling "Obrooni! Obrooni!" (translated to "white person.")
• Absence from technology. 
• Fresh mangos.
• Exploring an entirely different culture. 
• Sound of waves crashing on the shore. 
• Vibrant colors. 
• Time to reflect and relax. 
• Abundant time to be with God. 
• Faith and love shining out from everyone. 
• Smiles of the young and old. 
• Perfect peace.

The common theme is clear. I was/am missing the simplicity of life and appreciation of the little things. Gratitude. 

Those crosses I am bearing? I could go on and on about my frustrations. But they are weightless in Africa. Everyone there faces daily battles far more difficult than many of us will probably ever witness in a lifetime. And yet they know there is no need to carry them, as the Lord manages the load for us all on His own. Instead? Smile. And often. Take time to pause. And pray. Love others. And love hard. Embrace life. And hold nothing back. Help someone else. And then help ten more. Most importantly--fill your day with gratitude. 

Here is part of another journal entry I read--which naturally is a perfect fit still today:  

July 14th, 2011--8:12pm Ghana time

My daily devotion today was so great. Here's a bit of what it said:

"I could instantly grant you the spiritual riches you desire, but that is not my way for you. Together we will forge a pathway up the high mountain...someday you will dance on the high peaks...all I require is for you to take the next step. Clinging to my hand for strength and direction...stay on the path I have selected for you. It is truly the path of life."

So to each of you this November, I trust and hope that you too will add a touch of Africa to your daily lives. I can assure you, the feeling is like none other. And as far as my health (a current cross I am tossing to the wayside), there are a few concerning issues as of late. One's that I was reminded today, need to be addressed. But that insurance problem I mentioned briefly before? It has only escalated. (Another cross I am giving up to the Big Man.) So you could say I am in-between a rock and a hard place. However, this is my path. Right now I am only required to take the next step. Easy! Once I have a better idea of things, and to spare a lengthy post, I will update. For now? We pray. And look up flights to Africa ;) 

Wishing you all the beautiful blessings this month brings!

xoxo

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

Dreaming in White

Imagine. 

The simple, yet ambiguous, word that captured majority of my attention on Friday afternoon. It was used over and over again throughout my White Coat Ceremony.

October 25th was one of the most anticipated days in my life thus far. And I think I speak for my entire class when I say it was a day we had imagined long ago. (And more recently, thanks to anatomy, some imagined they would not make it to that day.) Sitting there, we heard phrases along the lines of, "Years of hard work and perseverance have brought you here this day." Or, "As exciting as this all is, it's only the beginning. The work ahead of you is just as difficult, if not more, than what it took to get here." And, "There will undoubtably be moments in which it will take all you have to imagine yourself at the end of this road, caring for your patient." Wait a minute. I thought this was supposed to be one big ceremony patting us on the back followed by celebratory cheers?? Kidding.

The tradition of receiving ones white coat was established back in the 80's at Columbia University. It was a fear of medical leaders at the time that professionals were losing sight of what medicine truly means. Many were using their title as a way to set them apart from those "less dignified." A self-proclaimed precedence that they were far more superior than their patients.

Which led to the creation of a formal ceremony presentation to proclaim the symbolic relevance of the infamous white coat. The purity reflected in its white color, a token of compassion and honor, and a constant reminder that we as medical professionals are held to a standard of care entrusted by our patients.

A wide range of emotions flooded my mind. As expected, I was in a little disbelief that this long awaited moment had arrived. I could not help but smile at the sight of my classmates taking their turn at the stage. Each with a different story that led them to that day. My heart raced as I imagined myself face planting in front of everyone due to a slight case of nerves combined with jello legs and heels! When I looked down the row at loved ones present, I was overwhelmed with gratitude knowing the sacrifices made along the way to foster my success. Including making the trip to be with me that day. I also felt a sense of uneasiness. Which was something I did not expect prior. But upon receiving that coat, I became part of that higher standard and set of expectations society naturally has for medical professionals. Exactly what I should have always wanted right? Yes, that is true. It has been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember to sacrifice for the good of others medically. But the moment that becomes an official reality is quite surreal. "Terrifyingly wonderful," might be a better phrase.

It was an all-around incredible day to say the least. For so many years I imagined what it would be like to study medicine. I painted a picture in my mind treating imaginary patients while wearing a white coat. What my daily routine will consist of once I am an established medical professional is another imagined scenario of mine. And as with every fairytale, there are battles to be won. I'll be the first to admit the fights are exhausting and stressful. But I also know it's in those moments of fear and doubt that true strength is found. Then, when that magical day you have aways imagined becomes a reality, the sense of pride and accomplishment is so incredibly rewarding. (Remind me of this when I call in frustration and anger; questioning why in the world I chose to put myself through such torture! Haha)

So that's it. My closet officially contains the piece of clothing I have always wanted. A dream come true.

In exactly two weeks, I will be back up at Mayo Clinic going through a variety of tests and scans, followed by appointments with my doctors reviewing the results. It's one of those things that I want to hurry up and get here but I like the idea of dragging my feet a bit. For example, there have been a few incidences lately that are practically screaming, "KERI CALL YOUR DOCTOR," buuuut I have yet to do that. I've been busy! Plus, I'm fine. (Don't tell my roommate. A few white lies may have been used to stop her nagging.) It could not be more true that doctors make the worst patients. But at the same time, I want things figured out and fixed. So I'm pretty sure that's a lose-lose either way I look at it ha. I have no fears. Whatever comes will be. I will proceed with the next trip on this crazy adventure.  Reservedly though, I will admit my only concern is how all of the timing will play out with the potential steps ahead. However, that is not for me to figure out. I've hired the most incredible personal assistant to take care of the messy details. In fact, He's already got it all figured out before I even have the slightest clue. Pretty incredible huh? You should look Him up.

Once I know what all comes of my appointments, I promise I will set aside time to post an update. For now, I'm just going to keep smiling at the shining white coat hanging pressed outside my closet door :) No more imagining.

xoxo

Every Heart

I am fairly confident that each of us, at times, loses sight of the "big picture." Be it wishing away days at work; living for the weekend. Adding to an already lengthy to-do list. Then having to make room by removing the "unnecessary" things such as that phone call to a friend you've been meaning to make, putting off a fitness class for just one more day, or quickly grabbing fast food because now you don't have time to get fresh produce at the store. And in the midst of the chaos of what society deems important, we miss the beauty of everyday miracles. The little things.

Personally, the little things are my favorite. For example, this past Friday I set a reminder on my phone to see the Harvest Moon. Silly I know. But I will be the first to admit, I have a strange love for astronomy. All thanks to my first grade teacher, Cece Meyer. To this day, I can tell you the stories associated with each constellation and the unique pattern they create across the sky. And each year in September, during the full lunar phase, the moon appears significantly bigger and is a glowing ball of orange as it appears from below the horizon at dusk. This is what is known as the Harvest Moon. It's beautiful! I missed seeing it Thursday because I was "too busy" to remember, but I was not about to let that happen again. (Sadly this took creating the alert on my phone.) A dear new friend and classmate of mine was coming over to study, but little did she know we were going for a drive before losing ourselves in the joys of anatomy. We headed out east of town, turned down a dirt road into a cornfield, and parked up on a hill. My StarFinder app (See, I told you I loved this stuff!) traced the path the moon would be taking and the exact time we should be able to see it come up based on our location. Sure enough, after watching a rainbow sunset, a giant pumpkin slowly began to rise up over the endless fields. Based on my reaction, you would've thought I just saw Adam Scott or something. I was just so excited! It blows my mind to think that people can view the exact same thing thousands of miles away from the cornfield where I was standing. We spent some time just sitting there watching in awe and enjoying the moment. Afterwards, my friend kept laughing at what we had just done. But she did admit she enjoyed every minute.

Like I said, I appreciate simple joys.

Earlier in the day on Friday, all of us first year MD, PA, PT, and OT students hosted the annual donor memorial service. Families of all of the bodies we dissect are invited to a funeral-like event in honor of the sacrifice their loved ones made when they chose to donate their body to science. It is a way for us as students to express our gratitude and another form of healing for each family. We were warned prior that it can be an emotional afternoon. And that became evident rather quickly.

Prior to the service, an older gentleman with cerebral palsy spoke to us first-years. No words will do him justice, but to put it briefly, he has his table down in our lab picked out for when he passes away. He made the decision 10 years ago that he would be donating his body to the medical school. His story, faith in God, and appreciation of the blessings he's received despite his severe medical condition, were all incredibly inspiring. I will never forget one of his comments:  "Each of you possesses the gift to change the lives of all of your patients." Now I'm honestly not sure why that struck me so powerfully that afternoon, because it wasn't fancy or even something I didn't already know. But seeing his condition, and hearing his weak yet mighty voice produce words straight from his heart, brought me back to the reality of why we are investing countless hours each day in the lab. A bold reminder that we are here for others, not ourselves. The smells that never fail to hit you like a brick, loads of memorized information, only to find none of our bodies are like the textbook, cursing every nerve and artery, and continually overcoming the bewildering fact that we are sawing and slicing away at a once living human being--has all blurred the big picture for each of us over the last few weeks.

Then if wasn't enough of an emotional roller coaster, it was on to the service. Once again another lesson far greater than the lectures on cardiac function only hours prior. I was captivated while watching each set of family members; analyzing their reactions as they listened to student speakers from the prior year, the tears formed in response to the music, and the evident pride as they lit a candle and stated the name of their loved one. After the ceremony, we spent time talking to the families. Not surprising, each was anxious to share their stories. I have always said one of the driving forces for myself personally when choosing to go into medicine is that every heart has a story. Things are rarely what they appear on the outside. When speaking to the families, this burning desire and passion to care for others was rekindled inside me. Something I admit I had temporarily pushed out of the way and replaced with feelings of frustration and stress.

Our first patient lying on our table down in the lab has a heart. And no, not just a heart with signs of previous hypertension, but one that has a beautiful story. One that beat faster at the sight of the love of her life. One that she listened to when deciding on what choices to make. A heart that endured pain, again not from internal dysfunction, but rather the suffering that comes with life.

Every heart has a story. One of the simple things I have so easily missed lately. I'm positive our sweet lady is looking down from above at the mess we've been making in the lab. I can guarantee she's had a few choice words to say in regard to what she's seeing us "perform on her" daily. And trust me, we have had our share of choice words while working on her as well. But now I just smile and laugh. What a brave soul she must have been knowing us rookies would be attempting to learn every single aspect of her body. So to our frustrating, abnormal, time consuming, and yet remarkable woman, I would like to say, thank you. If you only knew how much your sacrifice truly means to me and each one of my fellow classmates. Also, a thank you for the reminder we all needed; that life is full of ordinary miracles every single day. Maybe it's while discovering metastasis of cancer to the brain on a special lady in the lab, that I now also acknowledge the emotions she must have felt. Or perhaps, the simple rising of the Harvest Moon. Whatever it may be, the little things truly are the big, beautiful things and we cannot miss the opportunity to embrace each moment.

Humbly, yours.
xoxo

Transitions & Teeth

Hello, from a little farther north!

It always seems as if something prompts me to write. For instance:  my musculature and vascular pictures we draw during anatomy lecture have been rather detailed this week. Using my colored pencils to carefully blend the colors (in rainbow/chromatic fashion) of the overlying muscles, and not just writing the identifiers in, but creating a scripted appearance. Plus, my doodling on notes was entirely too mind consuming in one class today. Then, while talking about a specific nerve and its role when playing instruments, all I could think about was how I wanted to be sitting at my piano back home replaying old sheet music. And finally, each night I've needed random varieties of music filling the empty space while I study.

Clearly the creative part in me has had enough of being pushed out of the way by the five heavily scientific and analytical classes that consume 83% of my day.

Normally my time at the gym is where I can find some sort of escape. But even while in yoga class, my mind is full of random thoughts about which vertebrae are allowing the positions I'm molding my body into. And then what part of the brachial plexus the specific nerve stems from that is sending signals to the activated muscles holding me in downward dog...

So. As you can see, I need some sort of outlet. After cadaver lab today, completely overwhelmed, I blurted in the locker room that I just need to play tennis! Something about smacking the ball back and forth seems to be the catharsis I long for, but I have yet to find someone in the medical building that plays and is capable of hitting with me. So until then, writing is going to serve as my break; still using my brain, yes, but the opposite side.

Overall, the transition into Physician Assistant school has been fairly smooth. It takes "full-time student" to an entirely different level. I wake up and begin classes at 8am and usually end around 5pm. Then I sneak in a quick workout, eat something, and head back to the school for the evening, only in a study room versus lecture hall. And the cycle repeats. But the fact that it totally consumes your time isn't bad. It's the mass amounts of information that we cover in a single day that can swallow you whole if you let it. And then once you have todays info "mastered," you must quickly move on because there's a quiz the next day over a new load of material that will be introduced in the lecture to follow.

There's nothing easy about it, but regardless I truly enjoy all of my classes and instructors. Our major sciences are with the medical students and PT's. Talk about being surrounded by brilliance. Getting to know so many different people from a variety of backgrounds has been exciting. And trust me, you really get to know people quickly when you're elbow deep in dissecting for hours down in the cadaver lab! Our first round of tests starts next week, which currently has everyone spinning.

In terms of how my heath has been since the move, it wouldn't make sense for it to be "normal" for even just the first couple weeks, would it? I had some work done on my teeth a couple days before moving. My nonexistent thyroid can be credited for excess calcium leakage, therefore weakening the enamel. I was fine afterwards for about three days. Then progressively over the past two weeks, it got to the point that I could no longer eat, drink, or sleep. The pain in both areas of my mouth was one I've never experienced. Hydrocodone pills from previous surgeries didn't do a thing for relief. The first Sunday I was here, I was to the point that I could hardly function. No dentists would return my emergency line messages, so I drove myself to the ER, only to leave with a narcotic injection that didn't touch the pain, a new Rx for hydrocodone, and still no access to a dentist. I finally spoke to one that night (out of town), and the following morning was in his office an hour away, reviewing things. To make a long story short, he couldn't find anything wrong. Everything appeared normal. None of my symptoms were textbook. I was his "once a year situation" patient. A few days later with no relief from a variety of attempts, I was referred to an endodontist in that same town. He agreed that things seemed normal for the most part, but my symptoms didn't make any sense. However, he did proceed with surgery that afternoon. Once he cleared the way and got down in each area, infection came "shooting" out. When it was all over, he explained everything to me and shared how shocking it all was. He did not expect the results he found. Moral of the story? I don't have the best luck and an even crummier immune system. But thankfully this week has been remarkably different. I'm healing as I should and am back into my normal routine (aside from still some troubles eating)--just playing a lot of catch up from the time I lost on a diet of pain pills and merely going through the motions.

As horrible of an experience that entire ordeal became, I continually kept the notion that things can always, always, be worse. Because they can. And in many ways, I was remarkably lucky. Things could have progressed much further, causing other serious problems. And, two wonderful medical professionals were eventually placed in my path. This past Sunday, both my daily devotional and the readings/homily at mass was exactly what I needed to hear. Each talked about how an easy life is not the life Jesus intends for each of us. He brought turmoil into the world for a reason; because without struggle and difficulty, one would not seek assistance from the Man upstairs. Those times of adversity are reminders of our inadequacy, which is the perfect place to encounter God in His glory and power. A chance to give up the fight and let Him take over.

From the day I moved in, I knew I was in the right place. And that sense of contentment has only increased the further along I get into the program. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. Maybe this is one of those "weird feelings" that people always talk about. You know how the saying goes, "Well when you know, you just know." Trust me, I secretly laugh each time someone shares those words of wisdom too. But, I might sort of understand it now. And even more so, "I just know" I'm exactly where I should be because His plan for me is far greater than one I could ever draw for myself--even if it was every color of the rainbow, blended perfectly, and written in calligraphy. (See my anatomy drawings for an example.)

Unfortunately my phone is going off with texts from classmates stating the commute back to the medical building is underway and the studying must begin again...

Have a Happy Hump Day!
xoxo