Thankful

I made a mistake in our last church newsletter, some comment about the 2013 budget when I meant the 2014 budget. I explained it to my treasurer, saying, "I guess there is a part of me that thinks next year is 2013 again (please no!!)."

It's true. Normally as Thanksgiving comes around, and then Christmas and New Years, I, like many others, start in on my reflection of the past year. This year, whenever I start into that reliving of the year, every fiber in my body seems to resist it, begging me not to live through it again. Yes, it was a year that included joys as well as challenges, but thinking over 2013 is so exhausting, it makes me want to cry with fatigue.

But it is Thanksgiving, and the fact is, I am extremely grateful for many things about my life and about this year. So I will look back on the year through this mercifully gracious and positive lens, and maybe it will be more bearable. I will list some things, and in no particular order because on any given day I may be more thankful for something than others.

This year, on Thanksgiving, I am thankful...

1) For my doctors who have taken such immensely good care of me - physically, emotionally, and even spiritually - and who caught the cancers persistently growing in my body early enough that all I needed was surgery, and not more extensive treatments.

2) For decent health insurance, without which I would be enduring a stressor I'm not sure I could handle. Holy smokes, I am thankful for health insurance.

3) For a husband who told me last July after my first irregular mammogram that we would get through this together, and has held true to that. He listens to my words and my actions, he lets me cry when needed, speaks when needed and doesn't when not, gets me ice cream when I want it, tells me, "I love you" and "You're beautiful" on a very regular basis, can make me blush, giggle, and gasp with delight with his various antics and surprises, holds my hand, lets me have the more comfortable side of the couch when we watch TV, reminds me to take care of myself, supports and listens to me (even when my stories probably bore him), shows genuine interest in me and what I'm doing, and tells me over and over again how glad and amazed he is that I am his wife.

4) For all of my family and friends who have cried with me and laughed with me through this year, who helped us celebrate our weddings, who sent cards and care packages, who surrounded us with prayer and healing thoughts, who have been at our beck and call for whatever is needed during the year.

5) For two amazing congregations who show me God's love every day, who have been gracious and patient with me and all the time I have had to take off this year, who have fed us and prayed for us and celebrated with us and made us so grateful to be a part of their family.

6) For a dog who never ceases to delight us, who shows us what heaven looks like: sleeping peacefully in the warmth of the sun while cuddled up to the ones you love (whether it's people of a Kong... depends on the moment, I guess!).

7) That I am not only gainfully employed, but that I love my job, and feel privileged to be called to such extraordinary work.

8) That my parents taught me healthy money management, such that two years after obtaining full time work, I was able to purchase the house in which I hope to raise a family.

9) Speaking of parents, that they have had not only the desire and willingness, but also the ability to come and be with me as I have recovered from two major surgeries and help make that healing go more smoothly. And that they are so very generous and loving and have made me want to be the same. And that they gladly helps us pay for our weddings so that we could celebrate with as many of our family and friends as possible, and they helped make those events so beautiful and perfect. And that they are who they are, and have taught me to be who I am. And that I love calling and talking to them.

10) For my brother (and sister-in-law), who as we have grown up have gotten closer and found in each other a friend unlike any other. For having someone to talk to who gets what it is like to grow up as a Johnson (and what it is like to marry a Johnson!). For all the ways they inspire me. For the little girl they are bringing into the world in only a few weeks!

11) For my new family, Michael's family, that they have welcomed me into their lives so lovingly, and have been there for us this year in such important ways. For the chance to get to know them, and learn to love them as my own family.

12) That we have plenty, that our basic needs are met, and many of our wants, and that we still have plenty left over to be able to give away. For the ability to say, without worry, "Yes, I'd love to donate to your cause."

13) For the many women who have had breast cancer before me, who have blazed trails, and helped the medical community learn as much as they have about this disease to know how best to treat it. For their spirit and their willingness to share stories and wisdom, for their love and encouragement. It's not a club anyone wants to be in, but if I have to be in it, and they do too, I'm glad we are in it together.

14) For Rochester, and all its beauty, hidden and apparent. I have loved getting to know this city, and look forward to more discoveries for many years to come.

15) For John and Weesie, my local family, and all the people they have brought into our lives. What a blessing to have such beautiful people - and family members, no less! - so nearby.

16) For the many people who have done little things and big things for us this year - officiating a wedding, helping with yard work, packing or unpacking our home, bringing over a bottle of wine, running errands, providing meals... and so many more things than I could ever name. You know who you are!

17) For Concentus, my wonderful women's choir, who have surrounded me with love and grace and beauty, and given me a heart full of joy every Sunday night. My soul is fed by singing with these women, both by their beautiful voices, and by their beautiful spirits.

18) For music, the ability to enjoy it on many levels, and to create it. For the fact that I share this love and gift with my husband. For the way music brings people together in so many different settings. For the ability to sing or play and feel music coursing through my whole body.

19) For good books and good TV (and even not-as-good books and TV!), which have gotten me through a lot of hours stuck on the couch this year. For Netflix and Hulu and the ability to binge on a TV show and not have to get up and change the channel or anything. Seems silly to include Netflix in a post that includes being thankful for my family and other serious things, but seriously, Netflix has played an important role in my ability to heal.

20) For my faith, my God, and the peace that comes from that. For prayer. For the ability to reflect on my life spiritually, and to share it with you here, and to feel closer to God as a result. For the knowledge that when life is too much to bear, I am not bearing it alone. For the people who have reminded me of how good a God we have (whether they know they did or not). For the abundance I have in so many areas of life, and most of all for the One who has provided it all.

Thanks be to God!

Thanksgiving Sermon: Telling your story

Thanksgiving Eve, 2013

Deuteronomy 26:1-11

         In January, I will take on two very important roles for two very important girls: my brother and sister-in-law will have their first child, finally making me an auntie, and my best friend’s daughter will be baptized, finally making me a godmother. I take these roles very seriously, and so I am always on the lookout for things I can buy my little girls, that will help them to grow and develop and of course, to know how much auntie Johanna loves them. One of my favorite things to buy for them is books. Our house growing up was just full of books, and we always got to read a story before bedtime, not to mention hear an assortment of stories from and about different members of our extended family.

         What kid doesn’t love stories? Heck, what adult doesn’t love stories? Stories have always been a part of human existence, one of the oldest and most consistent modes of expression. We use stories to entertain, to learn, to teach, to express some truth about life. Jesus used lots of stories in his teaching, just as people did for generations before, and have continued to do for generations since. There is something about a story that just invites you in and makes things become more real. In recent years, I have become fascinated with stories and their many uses.

         Perhaps it is this fascination that drew me to our reading from Deuteronomy this evening.  It is the description of how and why one is to present first fruits to God. This time reading it, I didn’t focus on the first fruits part like I normally do. Instead, I was drawn toward the use of story in this passage. This reading shows us at least two important uses of storytelling in our life and faith.

One, which is especially appropriate for today, is that it shows how to use story in our giving thanks. After presenting first fruits and offering praise to God, it says, the presenter is to tell the story of the Israelite people. In short: “Once we were slaves in Egypt, and we cried out to the Lord. God heard us. God brought us out of that place, and God brought us into this wonderful place of freedom and bounty.” In this story, you see, God is an indispensible character. It is a story of moving from slavery into freedom, a story of God’s work in a broken world, and so it is a story of thanksgiving. All of these things happened, he says, and because of that, and how God responded to it, I am grateful.

         That’s not unlike what some of us do at our Thanksgiving tables each year: we take the time to reflect on what has happened, how we got to this point in life, and– either because of that or in spite of it – why we are grateful. The Thanksgiving I spent on internship in Florida, I shared Thanksgiving dinner with my supervisor and his family, and they did this in sort of a cute way: each plate around the table started with only three M&Ms on it. Before we could fill our plates with turkey and the trimmings, we had to eat the M&Ms, but before we could eat the M&Ms, we had to say something we were thankful for that year, one thing for each M&M. I remember looking down at those M&Ms, waiting my turn, and thinking that if I only got to say three things, I wanted them to be the very best things, the things I was the most thankful for! What ended up happening when my turn came around (and this won’t be a surprise to anyone who knows me) was that I had put so much pressure on each M&M that I had to tell a whole story for each one. “This M&M is for my family, because this and this and this happened, and because this year we did that and that and that.” There was so much thanks to give, it required a whole story to explain it.

         What stories would you tell, if you had some M&Ms? What story of longing and prayer have you lived this year, and how has God turned that prayer into an opportunity for gratitude around a table with family and friends? How can your story, whether you have experienced it as a joy or a challenge, become an expression of gratitude for the work that God has done in the midst of it?

         The other use of storytelling that we see in this excerpt from Deuteronomy is as a way to remember who and whose we are, and in doing this, a story can become a confession of faith. For the Israelites, this story about being slaves in Egypt, and crying out for help, and then God answering that prayer and leading them into a land of bounty and promise – that story defines the people of Israel. It is for them the moment that defines God’s relationship with them: God is the mighty one who listens to our cries and comes to save us. God is the powerful one who breaks the bonds of slavery and leads us into freedom. God is the wondrous one who provides for our needs.

         So in recounting this story, it becomes not only an identity-defining moment and an expression of gratitude, but also a confession of faith, a chance to recount with thanksgiving who God is, and so who we are because of it. I rather like the idea of the stories of our life serving as a confession of faith. It has gotten me wondering, do I have one story in my life that defines me, and defines my relationship with God, that could then serve as a confession of my faith? Do you have such a story?

         I did think of one, and I’ll share it with you. I spent a year as a missionary in Slovakia. It was not an easy year for me from the very get-go, for several reasons. I did my best to settle in, and was just starting to feel like God might be doing something special with me in this place… when I received the horrible news that a dear family friend had been tragically killed. Just as I had begun to trust God in a new way and believe that God was using me for something good, this reality totally deflated that trust. I did not have any interest in this God, and in my sorrow, I shut the door. For a few days, while I neglected God, I lived in constant fear – fear of the dark, of windows, of the phone, of sleep. Without the consolation I had always felt in my faith, I was completely lost, completely in darkness.

         One day, I couldn’t take the fear anymore. I thought to myself, “I don’t like what this God is doing, but if this is what life feels like without him, I can’t do that either.” Trying to sort this all out, I took off on a walk, aiming to climb to the top of one of the hills into which my village was nestled. As I climbed higher and higher, my fears dissipated. My burden was lifted. Life became bright again. Suddenly, I found I was singing, full voice, from the top of that mountain. It was a transformative moment of clarity and love, a moment in which I felt a profound communion with God.

The view of the village Vrbovce from the top of the hill on that day.

As I made my way back down the mountain, it was with a new heart. I still couldn’t make sense of what had happened to our friend, but at least my trust in God had been restored. I had simply let go of the need to understand, and been able to cling instead to the promise of God-with-us, even and especially in the times when life is difficult. If I couldn’t bear the pain of that devastating news, I knew that God could.

         Stories like this – you see, it is a confession of faith, and it is a story of thanksgiving. It is a grateful expression of an experience with God. We all have stories like this, whether you have called them that or not – what are yours?

         This practice of storytelling as thanksgiving and as confession of faith – this is not something that was only done in Old Testament times. The story told in Deuteronomy is a communal story, the story of a people. We have one of those, too, a story that defines our communal Christian life and faith, a story passed down for generations. It is a story of God-with-us, a story of love, a story of breaking the chains of death and letting life have the final word, a story of overcoming darkness with light. It is a story we tell in our defined confessions of faith – the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds – and it is a story we tell at our Thanksgiving table, our eucharist table.

         At the end of this evening’s reading from Deuteronomy, the writer tells us that we should come together with others in the community and celebrate what God has provided. And so we do: we come to this table – together – bringing all of our individual stories and experiences of God’s grace. We sing praises, the first fruits of our hearts. We tell again the story of a God who loves us, forgives us, and will never leave us, of a man who gave up his life so that we might never have to fear death. And we celebrate and feast together on the bread of life. Thanks be to God! Amen.

** Communion is sometimes called "the Eucharist," which comes from the Greek word that means, "thanksgiving." That is why we call the opening section of the communion liturgy, "The Great Thanksgiving."

Here are some other pictures from the walk I took that day. Still some of my favorite pictures I've ever taken.

On looking good

I continue to feel really good lately, closer and closer to "normal" (aka "new normal"). Yesterday I was in rehearsal, sitting and listening to the conductor, and it occurred to me that I did not feel anything. No tightness, no discomfort, and certainly no pain. After a month of always being aware that something dramatic just happened on my chest, in the moment before my realization, I had effectively forgotten that I had surgery. The recognition of this brought me a considerable sense of calm.

I have been thinking since I posted my last post about how I mentioned putting on something that made me feel sexy. I had gone back and forth about whether to include that or not (TMI?), but I'm glad I did because I have realized in retrospect that that was a really big moment. So much of the struggle with breast cancer is related to body image. Girls and women seem to just inherently have body image issues, right? Thanks to a culture that presents an impossibly high standard by photoshopping people to look perfect, I know very few women who would say they like everything about their body. So it is adding insult to injury to say not only, "You have cancer," but also, "and it's going to require you to give up the body part that society has said you must have to be an attractive woman."

Personally, I have struggled with various parts of my body over the years, but that was one part that I was always pretty pleased with. I was aware that losing my breasts would be tough - of course it would. I would be incredibly naive not to recognize that. It wouldn't have been such a gut-wrenching decision if I didn't know it would affect me. But I was more worried about the practical elements, like breast feeding, filling out my clothes, looking "normal," and the ability to hug someone without feeling like two bricks are pressing down on my rib cage. I didn't know until I saw myself in the mirror that night that I was really worried I would never feel sexy again. I knew I had a man who would continue to tell me he found me sexy. I knew that he wouldn't leave me suddenly because I wasn't sexy enough. (I have been devastated to learn that not all women can say this.) And I thought I knew that I didn't really care what anyone besides my husband thought.

Turns out, seeing myself as a woman that might actually still be desirable to someone other than the man who has vowed to spend his life with me was a really big moment. Of course that is not in any way to say I want to be with any man other than my husband, don't get me wrong! But the fact that I could be "empirically attractive" (for you When Harry Met Sally fans) and even alluring was a real ego boost to a part of my ego I didn't even know needed boosting.

"I don't think it's a matter of opinion. Empirically, you are attractive." ~Harry

I think often our memories of things are skewed, but the skewed memory ends up being better or more important than the way it actually happened. When I think back to looking at myself in the mirror that night, thinking how empirically sexy I looked, I see myself clearly and everything else in the mirror blurry, and there is light all around me, and I think, "That girl? She looks like health."

Sermon: The power in us (Nov. 24, 2013)

Christ the King (C)

November 24, 2013

Colossians 1:11-20

         Today is, as many of you know, Confirmation Day for Emma/Heidi. That is certainly a special occasion, and we look forward to celebrating it with her. But did you know that it is also another special day on the church calendar? Today is known as “Christ the King” or “Reign of Christ” Sunday. It is the last Sunday of the church year, the last Sunday before Advent begins, and a day when we remember that Christ is the ruler of our hearts and our lives, and that Christ’s reign, or the kingdom of God, is a reality of which we get glimpses now and then, but which we are also still seeking. Every year this Christ the King Sunday falls either the week before or the week right after Thanksgiving. So every year as I prepare to preach on this Sunday, I am very aware that even as we proclaim, “Crown him with many crowns!” and “Come thou almighty king!” our minds are also occupied by Black Friday and Cyber Monday sales, and Christmas shopping, and acquiring all of those things that we didn’t even know we needed.

         So then which is it, I wonder? Is Christ the king of our hearts? Does Jesus take the primary position in our lives? Does God have all the power? Or does our “Almighty King” take second, third, or tenth place, falling behind our other priorities such as family, friends, work, and the delicious possibility of a half price, big screen TV?

         This year as I have reflected on this discrepancy, the concept that has risen in my consciousness is power. That word comes up several times in our reading today from Colossians, talking about the power that Christ has over all things. The question that has been rolling around in my head is: what has power over us? Or better yet, what do we allow to have power over us?

         It’s a convicting question, especially as we enter this time of consumerism and consumption. Perhaps a really effective advertisement has power over you, convincing you suddenly that something you didn’t even know existed is in fact something you absolutely need to have. Or a particularly delectable looking Christmas goodie has power over you and you can’t resist just one bite. Or more broadly and seriously, perhaps you have some fears or insecurities that have power over you, that prevent you from doing or being all that you can be, all that God calls you to be. I can’t do that, we think. I’m not smart or good-looking or popular or out-going enough. How easy it is to let these fears and insecurities have power over us, to have the final say!

         There is a wonderful quote from Nelson Mandela. He suggests that we are not so much afraid of failure as we are that we might succeed, and hence shine too brightly. He writes: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.”

         I first heard that quote when I was about Emma/Heidi’s age, and it spoke so profoundly to my teenage insecurities, at a time when standing out was not something I ever set out to do. I’d rather just go about my business and do good things and be a nice person, but not draw any undue attention to myself, for fear of embarrassment.

         But what if Nelson Mandela is right? What if we do all have this light inside us, a light just bursting to get out and shine on and in the world? What if we do possess some extraordinary power and gift to offer the world? And if we do, then the next question is: from where does that light, that power come?

The answer is right there in the first line of our reading today from Colossians: “May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light.”

Boy, if there is one thing I would wish for Emma/Heidi as she is confirmed today, it is that. That you, Emma/Heidi, would be made strong with all the strength that comes from Christ’s glorious power, and be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to God. And that you would not be afraid to let that beautiful light inside you to shine!

That’s not just my wish, of course, and it is not just for those being confirmed today. It is also God’s wish, for each and every one of us, each and every day of our lives. God made that wish for each of us even when we were still in our mother’s wombs, but God made it a public statement in our baptism. At that moment, God washed us, claimed us, called us beloved children, and instilled in us the light of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit. Pretty remarkable moment!

Of course we cannot leave it at that. In our baptism we were given all of that… and so who are we to simply let all that power and light just sit around? You see baptism is not a once and done event. It is truly a gift in many ways, but it comes also with a responsibility – a responsibility to then live like we are baptized children of God! To love people even when they are difficult to love. To speak out on behalf of people who are not treated fairly or justly. To serve one another. To give of our selves, our time, and our possessions. To find ways to be thankful for all that God has given us, even when we may feel more depressed than thankful, more frustrated than joyful, more needy than generous. Because you see, that is what it looks like to be baptized.

Of course, Emma/Heidi didn’t know what she was getting into when she was baptized – she was yet a baby. What if we did know? I have a colleague who baptized a three-year-old once. The girl’s parents were worried about how she would respond, so they practiced so the little girl would know exactly what to expect. But when the moment came for her baptism, she grabbed her dad’s neck and yelled, “But daddy! I don’t want to be baptized!!” And it occurred to my friend, “Yup, that’s about right.” If we really understood what happens when we are baptized, the power of the Spirit that we receive, and the agency that is expected, we might also cling to safety or even run the other way! Being a baptized Christian is hard.

And yet, we are baptized. And Emma/Heidi has made the choice to affirm that baptism, as many of us did as teenagers, to say, “Yup, I’m on board with this. I want to be baptized, and I’m gonna do my best to live into that identity as a baptized child of God.”

It’s no easy task she has set out to do today, that we all set out to do, every day. But one of the most important lines in the whole confirmation rite is Emma’s/Heidi’s response to the question, “Do you intend to continue to live in the covenant of baptism…?” The answer is, “Yes, and I ask God to help and guide me.” This is essential, because there ain’t no way we can do this on our own! Because that power and light we’ve been talking about? That doesn’t even belong to us – that is God’s. What strength we have comes from Christ’s glorious power. Our power is really Christ’s power, and we are the vessels. So yes, we can intend to live in the covenant of baptism all we want, but without God’s help and guidance, we won’t get very far.

My initial question going into this sermon was, “What has power over us?” Really, it is not so much about power over us, as it is power in us. And the answer is indeed Christ the King, who made us strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, who sends his Spirit to be in our every action, who promises to be present, God-with-us, in all of our work and ministry.

Let us pray… Christ our King and ruler of all, you have given us power and strength beyond our comprehension. Help us know how you would have us use it. As we enter now into this time of affirmation of baptism, help us to remember our own baptism and the promises therein, and help us to live out those promises every day. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Back to life!

Friends, it is with great pleasure that I can tell you today: I feel good.

It's amazing. Practically overnight, I suddenly feel like myself again. Wednesday, I didn't need any pain meds for my chest, only for a headache. I even went for a fairly brisk walk - my first one in weeks - for about 25 minutes, and still didn't need anything. Yesterday, I didn't take any at all, and I returned to the office. First day I have felt like that is even a possibility. When I got home, I took another walk. This week, I finished everything that was on my work to-do list: two sermons, Advent prep, newsletter articles, everything. I even spent time doing my hair yesterday morning. By yesterday evening, I was feeling like pretty hot stuff.

Michael even mentioned that it looked like I had a skip in my step. I said, "Funny you should say so, because when I picture myself walking around today, in my memory it felt like I was skipping." He said I look happier, my color is back, and I am moving more naturally, less stiffly. I have been able to sleep this week on my side a little bit - not for as long as I would like before it starts to hurt, and my arms have to be just so, and the angle has to be just right, but it is something! Last night, I put on something that makes me feel sexy to see how my newbie boobies would fill it out - and I actually felt sexy. I felt so vain, looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, "Wow! I look hot!" As many times as Michael has told me that (I told him the best thing he could do to help me is continue to tell me I'm beautiful), this was the first time since early October that I believed him. I even did a skippy little dance to prove it. :)

Today, I woke up feeling genuinely motivated for the first time in weeks. I was excited about all the things I wanted to do today. (I got through about three of my lengthy list... oh well, there is still tomorrow!) Oh, to be excited about life again! Hooray! I bustled around doing some chores, finally fixing or putting away things that took five seconds but I haven't had the energy to do it. I went out on some errands and did my Christmas elf thing, picking up things here and there for the loved ones in my life. I did our first real grocery run since probably September. I made dinner, with help from my beloved.

And yes, after all of THAT I do feel a bit worn out. But to be fair, I would in the best of circumstances. (Of course, normally I don't feel my fatigue in my boob, but that's beside the point.) Don't worry, all you who are watching out for me - I will continue to listen to my body and not push it. But I am just so delighted to feel something like a normal Johanna. What a difference from Monday night, when I had a total meltdown. It would seem I needed to have the meltdown to get it out of my system, so that I could get on with the business of healing. Way to go, weird emotions. They never cease to surprise.

Tomorrow I'm getting a spa pedicure, a treat to myself. And then I'll really be ready to face the world. Let's do this thing!

I broke.

Yesterday, I stopped to get gas, and I drove up on the wrong side. I have never driven a car where the gas goes in on the passenger side, but for some reason, that's what I did.

That's sort of where I am right now.

The night before that, the evening of my first day back at the "office" (though I wasn't actually in the office, but did some visiting and work from home), I completely broke down. We have had piles of bills building, several overdue. We are not unable to pay them, we just haven't done it. We'd sort of agreed that I would be in charge of bills, but with my one-chore-a-day system while home recovering, this was never a chore that got done. Too much sitting up straight and reaching and having to hunt down different things from different locations. We just needed to set up automatic payment so we didn't miss them, but neither of us have had the energy. So when we ordered pizza on Monday night, I said, "Okay, between now and when the pizza arrives, we are going to work our way through this pile." And we did!

Mostly.

But there were a few things being difficult - passwords not working, user names forgotten, wireless being spotty. I kept working on them after the pizza was gone, and as I did I got more and more impatient. Things that normally wouldn't bother me (like Klaus jumping on the couch and curling up next to me) made me want to punch something and tear out my hair. I kept sighing deeply and agitatedly, a behavior that very rarely comes out in me. Michael was getting stressed by my anxiety, and went to his music room, which frustrated me even more. Finally, while I tried to approve the health insurance plan my employer had signed me up for, and when I saw I also had to decide about life insurance and some other things I didn't understand, I just burst into tears. I started bellowing for Michael, who couldn't hear me because he had headphones on. When I finally got him upstairs, I completely lost it, stringing together complaints and sentences that may have made no sense, all through a tight throat and many tears - weeks of frustration at my inability to do basic tasks coming to the surface. "I can do this, I know I can!" I said. "I have been doing it for years! I'm an adult! I'm smart! But I just can't handle these basic tasks." I was hysterical. Even as I could feel the intensity of my emotions, my logical self was saying, "Whoa, Jo, this isn't really worth it. Cool down, sister." But my voice only got squeakier, and my face more distorted as I listened to Michael's reasonable replies.

When we both had calmed down a bit, we did finally make it through the rest of what I wanted to get done, and made a list of places I needed to call the next day. I'm extremely relieved to have all of that taken care of.

And the next day I drove up on the wrong side of the gas station. What is wrong with me??

Okay, I know there is nothing wrong with me. I know that my constant forgetfulness is to be expected when I have so much going on in my life right now. But as I thought about what prompted this uncharacteristic freakout, I realized just how many things have changed for me in the past six months. I reflected in an earlier post about some losses and findings I have experienced, but I guess now, two months later, that is sinking in in a new way. Here are some changes I have experienced in the past 6 months:

* My name
* My signature
* My body (again)
* My address
* My knowledge of how to get to or from my home from any other part of town
* My single status
* My living situation (no longer living alone in an apartment)
* The way I have to sleep
* My morning routine
* My evening routine
* My cooking - Michael is a vegetarian, so I no longer have many of my go-to favorites, and all of my comfort foods are meat.
* My computer - new computer, which doesn't yet have the comfort and familiarity, nor all the files of my old one.
* My phone - same deal. Better phone, but different.
* My primary bank - Michael and I are working on combining finances
* My personal way of managing money (as we find a compromise)
* My health insurance - not yet, but I will soon go on Michael's
* My family dynamic - as always happens when someone gets married

It's a lot. No wonder when I dropped my new, sleek phone on the driveway today and the screen shattered into a thousand pieces, I slammed doors and sat on my couch and cried. Here was something new that I was finally getting used to and starting to feel comfortable with, and it had to go and break on me. I could barely handle the thought of a new screen. This is how on edge I am.

And this is why I don't feel ready to be back working among other people, why I'm content to be doing office-y tasks from the privacy of my couch and home. My patience with everyday life things right now is so fragile, I just can't trust myself to hold it together. Hopefully another week at home will allow me the time to regain some composure with life. Let's hope so.

Persistent pain - the journey continues

Since I had my expansion (aka, my fill up at the Boobie Lube), I have not been a very happy camper. I mean, my boobies look pretty good - fuller and less wavy. (Though I'm still afraid to pick the glue off, so the right side still looks really ugly...) But even though I was told the pain would last maybe 24 hours, I was pretty much flat on my back for 3 days, and then I started moving but only with a fair amount of pain. I really felt like 2 weeks of recovery had been erased. Michael made me refill my Vicodin prescription, which has resulted in general fuzziness again and whole periods of time that I don't remember. (I returned to my Concentus rehearsals this weekend - which fed my soul, as always! - but pretty much the whole rehearsal the conductor would stop to say something and as we started singing again I would think, "I have no idea what she just said." Once or twice, maybe, but every time?!) I have been taking the Vicodin when the pain is especially bad, and it takes the edge off, but otherwise I'm downing the Advil like it is my job and still, the pain never really goes away entirely. It pretty much always feels like I'm wearing a terribly uncomfortable bra that pinches and pulls in all the wrong ways, and I can never take it off.

Sunday I went back to one of my churches for the first time, because there was a congregational meeting after worship that I needed to be at. So wouldn't you know it, Saturday night was probably my worst night since the surgery. I woke up about 3am and tried to fall asleep with no success. I finally got up to go to the bathroom, hoping this would help, but it just woke me up more. Michael woke and asked if I was okay, and I said some pain meds would help. But then I totally lost it. As I sat there in the darkness with nothing to distract me, I started to feel so sorry for myself, as the sleepless hours ticked away. I whimpered away. Poor Michael wanted to help, and all I could say was, "I want my boobs back!" or, "I want to sleep on my side again! If I could just sleep on my side, everything would be fine!" For only the second or third time since the surgery, I cried big, emotional tears, furious at how unfair this was, and longing for a body that wouldn't keep attacking me. Klaus looked at me with those big brown eyes, his ears back in a posture of, "I'm sorry, mom, what can I do?" and he came over and licked up tears and snot. (I know, gross. But also sweet.) Michael curled up beside me and held my hand, sweet man, and this calmed me down until I was able to fall asleep.

I've basically been grumpy for a week. As the pain has persisted in my breast, my back has tightened up, because I can't so much as roll my shoulders without it hurting. I had a massage on Friday, which felt wonderful, but then the work she had done made me sore a couple days later, as massages often do when you haven't had one in a while. Last night Michael tried to rub out some knots from behind my shoulder blades and was amazed to find the muscles on my right are just rock solid all the way through. I long to go for a walk and enjoy some of the cool, fall sunshine, but that just makes me sore. So I feel like a slug, which makes me even grumpier. Uggity-ugh-ugh.

Today I saw Dr. Skinner and the wonderful ladies in the breast care center for my regular 6 week check up. They listened sympathetically about all my pain. They gave me a prescription for a muscle relaxant that should help, and told me again and again to be careful, not push it, etc. Dr. Skinner said, "The second one is always harder." Really? I said. Because I was told it would be easier! She said that makes sense, but something goes on psychologically and emotionally that always seems to make it a harder recovery. Or maybe, the nurse suggested, I don't have so many exciting things to look forward to after this one, so my healing drive hasn't been the same. Or maybe it's because this is a busier time of year in the church, so I haven't felt able to relax as much, since I don't have a whole summer of slow activity to follow this. Or maybe it is all of those things and more.

Whatever the case, I'm essentially supposed to return to work tomorrow. Yeah. I'm doing a wedding on Friday, so there's a rehearsal tomorrow, then the wedding, then confirmation class in the morning and the evening on Saturday, and Sunday is my first Sunday back. (Not preaching, but presiding.) I know, I *should* take a couple more weeks. But this is not a time in the church year when that is very easy. So what I will do is only go to work when I have to. Otherwise I will work from home, because I'm perfectly content to sit on my couch with my computer in my lap and answer emails, plan worship, put together Bible studies, etc. Driving around to visit people regularly would be a little much for me right now, but I can rally for short periods. And hopefully in a couple more weeks, I will feel more myself and be able to get back to work for real. Here's hoping.

Boob Under Construction

Yesterday I went to the plastic surgeon for what I thought was just a check-up to make sure everything is still good. Turns out it was for expansion! I have to say: adjustable boobs are not quite as cool as they once seemed.

You may remember from a previous blog that I thought I would go through this expansion piece for the first breast, but I ended up waiting so I could "pump up" both breasts at once. That way I could remain fairly even. I had been pretty nervous about that appointment when I thought I would get pumped up, and had even brought a friend with me to emotionally hold my hand and drive me home in case I needed it. All that build up for nothing.

Well this time, the possibility of getting pumped up wasn't even in my thought bubble, so I went to the appointment alone, and even forgot to take pain meds before. It wasn't until I was having my vitals taken that I learned what was coming.

The PA looked at my surgery site and said everything looked good, and I was ready for expansion if I wanted it. Let me take a moment just to explain, because sometimes I forget that not everyone knows how a mastectomy with reconstruction works (lord knows I didn't until last summer!). At the time of my mastectomy, the plastic surgeon put an adjustable implant in, nestling it under my pectoral muscle, and inflated it with saline as much as he could. Mine was a "skin sparing mastectomy," which means the surgeon sort of scooped out the breast tissue and left the skin, but there was slightly less skin because they took the nipple. (There are also nipple sparing mastectomies - Angelina Jolie had one - but I wasn't a good candidate because my previously radiated skin weakened the skin, and the nipple would likely not get the blood it needed, and would die. Gross, right?) So when all was said and done, my reconstructed breasts both ended up being about 80% their original size.

But skin and muscles both have the capacity to stretch - think of when a woman gets pregnant, how her skin stretches to accommodate. So as everything in there settles down after the trauma of the surgery (moved muscles, cut nerves and skin, foreign body), my body comes to be ready for incremental changes that will move me back toward my original size. This part of the process is no longer about my physical health, but rather, my emotional health. They are trying to get me looking as "normal" as possible (whatever that means), so I won't be reminded of cancer whenever I get dressed or look in the mirror.

So, back to the doctor's office. She said I was ready for expansion yesterday if I wanted. I said if she thought I could handle it, then I was willing to go for it. She said it wouldn't hurt going in (except the initial needle prick), and shouldn't hurt after. Then let's do it!

My adjustable implants each have a little port, situated under my skin sort of near my armpit. The ports have a tube that goes into the implant. Here it is:

So she poked a needle through the skin into the port, and then brought out a couple of huge syringes (let's call them Hans and Franz, there to "PUMP me up"). She said they only hold 2 oz each, and usually an expansion is 2-6 oz at a time. She started with my left, the well healed side. She was right - aside from the initial poke, I couldn't feel a thing as Hans did his job. Then we moved over to the right for the same procedure. Franz hurt a little more - I could feel the saline going in, feeling cold, and I could feel my chest-muscle-turned-boob adjusting to the change. I was already feeling very tight to begin with, like I have a rock strapped tightly to my chest. So this didn't help.

When she was done, I took a breath to focus and relax... but it was when I sat up that it really started to hurt. It was SO tight, that any time I moved my shoulder forward or back, I felt a sharp pain. She said she could take some saline out if I wanted her to, and I said I would sit with this for a few minutes and see if I got used to it. She left me alone, and then Dr. Langstein came in. He explained that this is really a no pain no gain situation. This is a boob under construction. He explained the biology of what was happening (totally over my head), and said we could take some out, but that would ultimately just lengthen the process. No, get it done already! I thought. I asked how long it would hurt, and they both said maybe 24 hours, especially the first few. I decided I could suck it up that long. Good, they said, come back in three weeks. I have to keep coming back until I am the size I want to be (which could apparently be quite large, if I felt so inclined! But I don't.).

I'd like to think I'm pretty strong, and have a high tolerance for pain. But I tell you, that was not comfortable. It hurt enough that I could very easily have come up with some tears, but not so much that I couldn't hold it together... until I got in the car. I really wasn't sure I would be able to drive. I sat alone in my car for a few minutes just whimpering to myself and occasionally shouting, "OUCH!!" and contemplating whom I could call to come drive me home (plus someone else to drive my car home). Finally I decided I could make it the 20 minutes home, and took a deep breath, drove carefully out of the parking lot, and was on my way. Of course my GPS took me through downtown, which required a lot of turning (darn it, why didn't I take the expressway??), so my left hand got quite a workout while my right hand mostly lay idly by. But I made it. Last night was pretty rough, maybe the most pain I've been in yet. But I was able to sleep, and the morning was better. Today is not great - better than yesterday but not as good as pre-expansion. So much for today's to-do list; I don't want to move.