one foot in front of the other

Well! How was that for a whirlwind *almost* year? In so many ways, it flew by. And in many others, I feel like it's been ten years haha.

I just wanted to share a brief update kind of where things have been/are at for me. I sort of don't know where to start. First I just want to say much of this is therapeutic for me. I also genuinely want to share for those who are interested in what's going on. I know it has helped me a TON to learn more about people's stories as I've done this, and maybe someone will benefit from me sharing mine. Anyways.

So I guess we will just go back to when chemo finished. Mid February. I had about 6 weeks between chemo and surgery, and it was a pretty good time. My stinking body/hormones got pretty out of control real quick, which was a bummer. (Side note: breast cancer is either hormone positive or hormone negative, which basically means your hormones either fuel it, or don't play a role. Mine is hormone receptor positive, and as I've ridden that roller coaster this last year, holy crap. Hormones. Are. The. Devil.) Anyways, that isn't really relevant. I just didn't feel super because my body was working overtime to turn back on after chemo shut things off for about six months. Fun stuff.

So we were scheduled to have my surgery down in Arizona. I'm so grateful to my parents for opening their home for us to stay there while I recovered, and also weirdly grateful that my mom had great surgeons for her own surgery, because I ended up using them as well. It was a huge blessing to have done that down there. So the week before my surgery, I had about a million appointments to get my ducks in a row. One (or 5) of those were some scans to see where everything was at post-chemo. Just so my mastectomy surgeon knew what was going on. So we did those. Had my surgery. Surgery went well. They ended up having to do a full axillary dissection, which basically means they dug a bunch of crap, mostly lymph nodes, out of my armpit to see if I had any cancer left over after chemo. They removed 17 nodes, and 9 were positive with cancer still. Not great. At my post surgery follow up, we also discussed the fact that I still had positive nodes lighting up past my collar bone. Also not great. I think we were all pretty focused on the surgery recovery/etc, because the reality of what that meant didnt really catch up, to me at least, until we got back to Utah.

I was scheduled to start radiation about 6 weeks after my surgery. The week before, I went to meet with my oncologist for the first time in a while. It was a big meeting. We were going to discuss the pathology from my surgery/results of chemo/etc. While we knew that I obviously still had quite a bit of cancer sticking around, actually DISCUSSING it in a concrete meeting with the doctor felt a lot heavier.
My staging moved from 2B to 3C. Their words were ''we are disappointed with the results from chemotherapy." Not exactly what you want to hear after putting your body, family, and life through the ringer for the past 6 months.
Thankfully we still had radiation ahead, which should have done a lot to help. And I have a lot of hormone therapy, as well as several clinical trials ahead, to also help things.
And so we move forward with the next thing.

It's just a weird place to be at the "end" of treatment, you know? Like everyone feels like you should be super happy and excited. And instead we were told just a month ago that my cancer had literally gone as far as it could without being metastatic. And the fact that it didn't respond well just speaks to the nature of it: aggressive, resilient, etc. Then you add the genetic stuff to the equation, and it just feels super scary and absolutely unknown going forward. The last month has definitely been an exercise in positive psychology, to say the least. Christian and I are feeling a little better now. We are having many difficult conversations, and also doing our best to just live in the moment.
It's hard, and good.

Here's the thing.
The likelihood of a recurrence is high. The chance of it happening in the next 5 years is also high. I don't even want to think of what that could mean for us. And yet of course my head goes there. How can it not? It's a fine balance every day of being realistic, and also focusing on the positive.
Is that a potential for our future? Absolutely.
Does it mean I need to wallow and worry all day, every day? It could.
But I do NOT want to do that.
It's difficult. 
It's taking lots of therapy and coping techniques and emotion coaching and prayer and positive affirmations and deep breathing and caffeine. Hahaha. But the thing about it is, like with ANY trial, this is just the new normal. And it will get a little easier as we keep practicing and LIVING.
At least that's what my therapist keeps telling me ;)

The biggest thing I have come away with over the last month is this:
I have faith in God's plan for all of us. For myself and my family. As of now, it doesn't look like ANYTHING I would have chosen. And some day down the road, we may feel even more that way. It makes me sad and frustrated. But those feelings ease a little bit when I remember that I, that WE, are absolutely in His hands. I know more than I know anything that HE LOVES US.
So very much.
We are His children.
He WILL NOT abandon us.
He sent His Son to die for us so that we do not have to walk these lonely roads alone.
And so that we may live with the people we love for FOREVER.
I have felt His guiding hand and loving embrace so many times over the last year. I have felt the spirit whisper to me that even though so much of this doesn't make sense, SO MUCH of it, Heavenly Father is at the helm. Many days, it has taken intense digging. Deep searching. I have had to do my part, because I can't always see His outstretched hand through the noise of the world, through my worries, through the haze of mortality. But when I find it, the peace is there. And I am reminded that somehow, it will all be made right and make sense some day.
I know this to be true for all of us.
Whatever we are going through.

As the storm clouds have loomed, and thickened in some ways, I have felt more and more like a child clinging to the hand of a parent. This has all surpassed my understanding, and the more I look around at the storm, and take the focus off of Him and my Savior, the more scary it all feels. And so this is what I am *trying* to choose, every day.
I am choosing to focus on the hand that I am holding.
The hand of a loving Heavenly Father.
Because He's got this.