"...There are no Shops Where You Can Buy Friends..."

Those who suffer for an extended period of time with little to no relief are an exclusive group. We would form our own club, but then it would be considered a pity party, people would think we were depressed and possibly suicidal, and that would be no fun. Since we can't form a club, sit in our jammies and eat ice cream together, or even make snide comments about the lazy phlebotomists who screwed up the needle stick so bad we look like battered women, many women (and men) who endure long, difficult mental and physical trauma often walk the path alone.

The quote used as the title of this post is from The Little Prince. It states: "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy ready-made things in the shops. But since there are no shops where you can buy friends, men no longer have any friends." Wouldn't it be nice to stop by Target after work, especially after a really crappy day, go to the friends section, take out your "must have" list, and bring a friend home with you that same night! There wouldn't be that awkward call on a Friday or Saturday night, "Oh, you already have plans. Don't worry about it. Me? No, I'm fine. Seriously. NO REALLY, DON'T WORRY!  Have SO MUCH FUN!" followed by a click, a flying phone, a swerve across a few lanes, and praising the powers that be that the McDonald's was so close. Diet Coke and sappy movies it is.

Those of us who suffer don't want to inconvenience our normal friends. No one wants to be THAT friend. You're all dolled up, the babysitter has arrived, a massive bacon-wrapped filet Mignon is calling your name in that fancy dimly lit restaurant, your man actually shaved and let you put some pomade in his hair, and you see THAT friend's number on your caller ID. You promise it will take five minutes max, and then your romantic candlelit night is spent in the ER, surrounded by screaming children, MRSA, and something that smells like it died two weeks ago and just came to see a doctor.

The unfortunate thing is, we need friends too. We need them for emergencies, and we need them to go out with us. We need them to keep us up to date on all the goings on in the world, and sometimes we need someone we trust to see the dirty house, the ugly cry, and to tell us that this is as bad as it's going to get, the the Lord still loves us, and that things have to turn around soon or we will all be in straight jackets together.

We need someone who can throw us a pre-cancer party, complete with pin the thyroid on the raptor, Thyroid cupcakes, and a customized song. See below for proof on that. One of the funnest parties ever for one of the best friends a girl could ever have!

Thyroid Cupcakes

     

Kim enjoying  thyroid dessert!

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Terra's new Thyroid Hair Accessory

My friend loves games, so we came up with two games for her, and we even incorporated her favorite sport - hockey. This was no pinterest-worthy souree, but it did the trick!

Yo, Adrian! The thyroids is attackin my bodoy!

LM Montgomery said, "Life is worth living as long as there's a laugh in it," So have a goodbye thyorid party, Say so long to those ovaries or that uterus. When my friends and I threw this party, we weren't sure how our other friend would take it, but she loved it! We laughed all night long. We eased her fears, she knew she had a support system, and no one got sappy. Try it out!

After surgery on Wednesday, my husband brought me a Diet Coke so it would be ready at my bedside. My mother and father-in-law both came and visited me in my room. People from church asked how I was, and my new visiting teacher sent me a text message, came and saw me, and brought me a succulent. I had tons of text messages, well wishes, and good vibes sent my way.

I felt loved from all my friends and family. But here's the thing that I couldn't buy at the store and that left me on my knees praying to my Father in gratitude. One of my dearest friends comes from a large family. She has been going through a tough time. At the same time, her younger sister is moving out of state with her young family. Her older sister is my older brother's age, and she has relapsing remitting MS. She recently started her own business and asked me if I could do an online or in home party for her to help get her name out there for this business. I explained that I couldn't at this time due to my health. Rather than get upset or unfriend me on social media, her next response stunned me.

"Is your ward arranging for you to have any meals after surgery? If not, I want to bring you some freezer meals."

I broke down and sobbed. I had been working sick for almost three months because I am in a new job and need to help provide the basics for my family. This sweet woman answered my prayers before I knew what to ask. "You don't have to do that. You have a busy family of your own, " I answered.

"I understand if your ward is already doing something or if you have family helping out (which she knew was not the case), but I know what it's like to not be able to cook but to want to eat nutritious food. It's really no big deal. Ill just bring them by next week."

I humbly said thank you, and three days later, I received 6 freezer meals for a family of 4-6 people. My freezer full to the gills, I relaxed a little bit.

The day before surgery was scheduled, I got a text message reminding me that I had signed up to take a dinner to an elderly couple in our ward. I freaked out. I didn't have the time or intestinal fortitude to do that! I said a prayer to guide me, and then I remembered, I had FREEZER MEALS! I cooked a meal, called the family, but I got no answer. I went to the house, no answer. Finally I called their daughter, whose daughters are my good friends. This sweet old man was in the hospital. She said I could take dinner and drop it off at her house. I was irked. I went through the trouble to make a dinner, and it was going to go in a refrigerator or back in the freezer because no one told me this man had been hospitalized. I bawled my eyes out from stress overload, got in the car, pulled myself together, and delivered this meal.

No sooner did I get through the door than they asked how I was doing. Again, I could not hold it together. I explained that I was nervous about surgery and frustrated. My sweet friend, who is here on vacation from her life on cruise ships, offered to bring us dinner after I got released from the hospital. It was easy to fix and delicious.

I couldn't buy my friends at the gift shop. They are rare gems. They provide me with a type of service money cannot by.

In Mere Christianity, CS Lewis said, "Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such infinite importance. The smallest good act today is the the capture of a strategic point from which, a few months later, you may be able to go on to victories you never dreamed of. An apparently trivial indulgence in lust or anger today is the loss of a ridge or railway line or bridgehead from which the enemy may launch an attach otherwise impossible."

We are capable each day of "rising to greatness and going on to visions [we] never dreamed of," or of working for the enemy to destroy that rise to victory. Being that friend that money cannot buy, helping the downtrodden, even if they may look okay on the outside, helps us rise to greatness. Doing those small things adds oil to our spiritual lamps so we can go in when the Bridegroom comes.

If we ask for opportunities to provide charitable service to others and then listen and watch for those opportunities, they will come. They are there every day. We just need to choose wisely when me make little decisions each day.

Twas the Night Before Surgery

Tomorrow is a monumental day. Tomorrow marks the end of a year-long healing process. It marks the end of one of the worst years of my life. Tomorrow I undergo my last of three life-changing surgeries. Tomorrow I have a robotic total hysterectomy.

Hysterectomies are for old women. Patients I normally see at work who have hysterectomies are my mother's age. They've had children, their children are grown, and they don't need their equipment anymore.

A hysterectomy was never part of my life plan. I always wanted to grow up, go to college, become the best starving writer/English teacher in the history of starving writing English teachers ever known, and have at least 5 children, most likely six to eight. That was the plan.

After putting off college to put one husband through school, getting divorced at 29, providing for my own needs for almost four years, getting remarried, and continuing to help provide for my family, school became an idyllic dream, something I longed to complete but never thought would be a realistic goal, and despite my best efforts, children just didn't come. I always thought, I still have time. I can always do IVF or IUI. It will work out.

When I got remarried, I wanted a family more than anything, but I wanted to make sure my marriage would work. Once it was working, we decided to start working on a family. That was when I found myself in the emergency room, sure that I had appendicitis, only to find softball-size ovarian cysts instead.

Reassured that they could be removed and my reproductive organs spared, I agreed to outpatient surgery, understanding that I might have to undergo a laparotomy and be admitted to the hospital. Anything to start my family, I thought.

After I woke up from surgery in the worst pain I had ever endured, I learned that I'd suffered a traumatic oopherectomy, but that my other ovary was spared. I tried to stay positive. Little did I know, I was at the beginning of one of the most painful journeys I would begin in my life.

Shortly thereafter, I would learn that I had malignant nabothian tumors that were well-contained and caught early. In short, I had cancer and needed more surgery. On December 30th, I had my last ovary removed. Time did not allow for egg retrieval. My plans for children, forget six, not even one child, ended that day. Against other surgeon's advice, my doctor followed my wishes to keep my uterus. I still preserved some hope that I could carry a child through egg or embryo donation.

By some miracle, I began working for my doctor in March. I heard a baby's heartbeat in utero for the first time. I found myself helping others who faced scary situations and cuddling babies who had just come from Heaven. It was the perfect situation.

Less than a month after starting my new job, a scary, familiar pain returned and I began bleeding every two weeks for a week at a time. I knew something was wrong, so I talked to the doctor. After she examined me, we discussed the bleeding, dying elephant in the office - the last result. I needed a hysterectomy. This procedure would not be like any normal hysterectomy. Due to extreme endometriosis, a complicated anatomy, and adhesions from previous surgeries, I had two options - open laparotomy or robotic surgery with the gynecologic oncologist.

Talking about the C word is scary. Knowing you've fought it is mind-blowing. Booking surgery with her made me want to pull my hair out, eat all the ice cream in Fresno, drink myself into oblivion, and cry until I'd died of dehydration all at the same time. Dr. Wu moved her practice from Stanford to Fresno because there was no gynecologic/obstetric oncologist in Fresno, and we have such a massive need that she could not meet that need on a part-time basis. She is young, tenacious, and phenomenally gifted. She also is an expert at robotic surgery, so if I didn't want to be in bed for 8-12 weeks again, she was my only option.

My doctor made an agreement with Dr. Wu, we booked surgery, and I waited. Cancer doctors have long waitlists, so because I wasn't dying, I needed to wait. I worked for two months in some pretty intense pain. Luckily we found some good anti-inflammatory medications, and I went to work, did my job, and slept.

The closer I got, the more I realized that a robotic hysterectomy with the cancer guru is not what every girl wants for her 34th birthday. But it is what I really want. I want to be healthy and live my life. I want to go back to school, finish my degree and teach. I want others to know that, even if life hands you a crappy hand, you play that hand and sometimes you win.

Just remember, life is meant to be hard. It's meant to be a place of learning and growth. The harder things get, the more we learn and grow. If it feels like an AP class, good! Life is giving you the type of growth that will make you a God or Goddess someday. Learn from it. Work. Pray. Repeat. The rewards are worth it!