HObbitsville Blog

sick and tired... again

Thu, 4 Mar 2010 21:39:40 -0500

Well, I keep hoping for a good time to update this blog, and I’m not having a whole lot of good moments just about now, so I’ll type a bit and then head for bed. I’m so humbled to know that dear friends from all over are hoping on my blog and checking for updates, and I’m not posting.... sorry everyone!

I started the additional chemo at the beginning of last week, and my poor body has had quite a time trying to keep chugging along. I had a couple really rough days until I figured out that if I take it before bed I don’t get so sick. I got steadily stronger after that, until Tuesday of this week and I hit a low again that I’m trying to work back from.

I think the chemos combined with radiation are really fatiguing me. I am so tired all the time and sleeping a lot, that’s why I’m not getting emails answered and even getting a chance to visit with friends. If you have sent me an email in the last little while, please know that I so treasure everyone’s words of faith and encouragement, and I WILL get them answered some day!

I’ve also had a lot of extra doctor’s visits the last two weeks, checking problems with my thyroid and a possible ovarian cancer due to a debris-filled cyst that they found. As of today, I have gotten word that BOTH of those issues are not as they had appeared and all is well. I LOVE GOOD NEWS!

These days have been difficult on everyone, I think, but God allows so much fun and laughter as well. Like the time I was making brownies with Wesley. He soberly watched me break the eggs into the bowl and then toss them into the sink in front of him. I walked over to get the oil from the cupboard and turned just in time to see him just as soberly smashing the egg shell halves he had fished out of the sink and dropping them into the pan... just like Mommy!

Then there was the time Shaina and I were working on her math and she is learning about graphs. The book instructs me to fill a bag with toys so we can graph the contents. I’m thinking that there must be an easier way... “Shaina, we are going to graph the mess on the floor that we haven’t cleaned up.” Four shoes, one sippy cup, two scarves, and three dolls later, Shaina had cleaned up nicely and learned about graphs at the same time. I love home schooling! :)

I am truly surrounded by reasons to rejoice! We’re really missing Nathaniel in Alaska, but he is doing well and being able to accomplish a lot on his end of things. Just knowing he got through the pile of mail is a relief to me! Noah, Shaina, and Kate are spending the week with their cousins in PA, and the resulting quiet around here has been odd and wonderful. Wesley misses them but is also rather delighted with his new role as top kid at the house!

I’ve been pondering the term “well-digger” over the last week or so. I met with a pastor from an area church, and as we prayed together, he thanked the Lord for giving me a deep well to draw from in times of difficulty. The phrase really struck me, and I realized that I DO have a deep well. It’s no credit to me, but a tribute to the many people who have been well-diggers in my life. Investing truth and purpose that can be drawn from in times of drought and devastation. How blessed I am with so many who have invested deeply into me!

And I’ve realized that it is the deep longing of my heart to be a well-digger for others. I’ve been reflecting on our ELT (Emerging Leaders in Training) youth team from Alaska. How I miss them! I think the happiest times in recent years have been when Nathan and I have been able to disciple those beloved souls, hopefully adding to the depth in their wells.

There is so much I want to be doing, and it vexes me to just feel like I’m dragging through each day. I want to accomplish something! But, maybe by blogging this journey I can shovel out a bit of the muck of life and make room in your well for a bit more living water. That would be a treasure found along the way.

And even though I’m feeling a bit lonely for my blue eyed sweetheart, and tired, and queasy, and weak... I’ll dip back into that well dug for me by those who have valued what is eternal... just enough for a cup of tea before bed!

A short post to make up for that last one...

Mon, 15 Feb 2010 23:51:24 -0500

Omnipresence

Mon, 15 Feb 2010 23:12:46 -0500

I am sitting in the children’s bedroom practicing omnipresence. To anyone less than two years old, this is the amazing feat a mother has of suddenly appearing the moment he puts his feet out of bed. To the older children, who can see me in the corner behind the suitcase, it’s good amusement. But to Wesley, the determined and unsuspecting culprit, I am indeed God-like. We’ve been practicing catechism with the children, and one of the questions is, “Can you see God?” “No, but God can always see me.” Wesley includes me in that one… his omnipresent Mommy, hiding behind the suitcase, waiting for his wee tootie-toe to even THINK about getting out of bed!

Someday he’ll realize I’m a bit more human than he currently understands. I kind of feel that way about the people around me. I hear comments like, “You’re so strong, you’re so inspiring.” Trust me, when you’re in my skin, you’re not very inspired by yourself! It must be because…. Excuse me, we interrupt this blog post….

Okay, make that two culprits back in bed. I guess Kate is young enough to fall for omnipresence even when I’m in plain sight.

Anyway, It reminds me of an old Twila Paris song I loved as a teenager, “Warrior is a Child.” The chorus speaks of dropping your sword to cry for a while, and looking up for a smile, “Deep inside this armor, the warrior is a child.”

I guess the picture is that our opponents are always larger than we can handle. I’m sure that’s how our enemy the devil likes to play it, make our battle big enough to totally overwhelm us. I guess in some ways he’s as silly as Kate, not seeing the obvious outcome to getting out of bed when Mommy is sitting in the corner. Doesn’t he see how Almighty God uses his strategy against him? If we are just wise enough to see that we can’t fight it and run for refuge… we have such promises… assurance that these trials will strengthen and refine us. The very thing sent to destroy us is used for our blessing. Like Jacob wrestling the angel, blessed by his attacker.

I mentioned running for refuge, and I’m learning a new lesson… that sometimes there is no refuge in sight. It never shows up. The battle comes, and goes, and it seems that the reinforcements were never sent. I guess that’s where Nathaniel and I have been the last while. I think before cancer I glibly thought that there was always a hero’s rescue before things got too dark. Now I firmly believe that there are things that cannot be reconciled this side of heaven. It doesn’t make God less the hero, it just reaffirms what I always knew, that His ways are not mine, but I WOULD choose them if I could see from His perspective.

I don’t know the answer, and maybe that’s why I know I’m not strong or inspirational. I’m uncertain at best. Well, uncertain of what I can see. I’m not uncertain of what I KNOW. A wise person once stated to never doubt in the darkness what you knew in the light.

I know that God’s Word is true and full of life. I know that He uses trials in His children’s lives. I know that He has allowed His children to face hard… even unthinkable things here on earth, but promises that this life is just a vapor, and that eternity will make it worth the cost. I know from looking at the lives of other’s that trails can turn to gold, I can look back on stories like Joseph and see that his heartaches were not wasted. It still doesn’t make me want to have cancer for the virtue of it, but it assures me that I am NOT exposed and abandoned, even though I may feel like I am.

Hmmm, I’m not sure if I wrote that for you all or for me! The room is growing more quiet, and restless bodies are being stilled and I can hear the sound of thumbs being sucked. It’s a blessed thing to drift off to sleep, safe and warm and unconcerned.

Enough rambling, let me fill everyone in on the last little while. I’m not sure how to do it in a concise manner, there’s so much going on! I’ll try to be brief…

My visit at the Ireland Cancer Center in Cleveland went well. We liked the doctor and received some good insights. We’ve pretty much had a general consensus that I should do these two lighter doses of chemo. One during radiation and one after. I actually started on the Xeloda last night. I didn’t start immediately because I needed a sense of peace that it was the right thing to do, and I was honestly so tired and overwhelmed I didn’t feel up to dealing with any side effects that might occur. Gratefully, I seem to be okay so far, just a bit of an upset stomach.

Radiation started just over a week ago. I’m starting to get a bit red, but nothing severe. I go every afternoon, and so far it has been fairly uneventful. I have a few other health issues... it may mean some testing, but hopefully all is okay. Honestly, I just wish I could be an ostrich and stick my head in the sand when it comes to tests, taking my vitamins, everything. Can I quit yet? Okay, just had a mental parade of five sweet little sets of blue eyes... I’ll take my vitamins again.

We were very blessed with a phone consultation with the Deputy Physician-in-Chief for breast cancer programs at Memorial Sloan-Kettering in New York. It seems we have a mutual friend, thanks Isaac! :) His recommendations were encouraging on one side, distressing on the other. He wants me to do a pretty heavy chemo after radiation, and the side effects can be pretty extreme. He was very strong in his encouragement, and we value his advice, but also know that these final decisions need to be ours. Please pray that we will know what to do! We have a month or so to decide.

Our biggest battle just now is that Nathan is now back in Alaska. I found myself with tears just under the surface all day today, feeling a little lost and alone. I miss him so much, but with much prayer and contemplation, we felt that this was the right decision. He will be coming back in just over five weeks, at the end of my radiation. How blessed we are with phones and computers and video chat!

Noah summed it up as he cut his pancakes the day before Nathan left... “This pancake was perfect, just like our family, but now it is all cut.... a ..pa..r..t.....(dissolve into tears)” Even my little ones are learning what it is to have sorrow for a companion. She is not altogether unkind, however. And their resilient little hearts are doing well. Please pray for us in this time apart, though... and thank you!

Just a quick update on our friends Paul and Kathy before I close... they were in the accident I told you about in my last post. Gratefully, Kathy passed the dangerous place where her life was threatened, and they are beginning to heal. The process will be so extensive so I am sure they are grateful for continued prayers.

Wow, it all makes me just wish to remind you to keep the bulk of your treasures of the eternal variety... and all else you have hold loosely. This isn’t our heaven.

Off To Ireland

Tue, 2 Feb 2010 23:17:09 -0500

Well, I’m not EXACTLY off to Ireland.... But sort of. At University Hospital in Cleveland they have the very respected Ireland Cancer Center, and a door has opened for me to go and meet with a doctor there for a second opinion. They have what is called a multi-disciplinary approach, and it means that all of the docs and specialists will review my case and talk it over, and I was strongly encouraged to seek out a place that would handle it in this way. Honestly, it was no science to it... just a lot of recommendations, so I called them, and the secretary was shocked to find an appointment three days later. She repeatedly said, “This never happens!” I prayed for open doors, and this seems to be one!

I am also supposed to start radiation tomorrow afternoon, and as a result my new regimen of chemo as well. I had really been praying for a chance to talk to another doctor before I started radiation, and this is cutting it close, but definitely a relief to me. I truly don’t know if I’m going to do the chemo pills... we are praying, and seeking God. I love the thought of 51% reduction of recurrence rate, but chemo is a scary thing. Just opening up the fedex box and looking at the pills left me crying on Nathan’s shoulder last night. I don’t want to do this again!

I’ve just started then erased three different paragraphs trying to say something profound. Purposefully pushed profundity is pathetic. :) The truth is I haven’t any depths of insight to impart... it’s really quiet, and I’m still waiting for the picture to come into focus myself. I stand in this certainty with my newly comprehended friend Job, “But He knows the way that I take, when He has tried me, I will come forth as gold.” (Job 23:10)

One last thought... He knew the way my friends took when a drunk driver smashed into their vehicle and almost took their lives. Paul and Kathy Martin gave their lives to Christ when I was still living at home and never looked back... we attended church together, and their teenage boys were my Children’s Church assistants long before I got married. Kathy and I put on a girl’s retreat for the youth from the church, and her fervent spirit deeply impacted me. They left our church to be missionaries in Ukraine, and then have been pastoring in Indiana. Now they have both suffered horrifying injuries in this accident, and Kathy’s life is threatened due to a tear in her aorta. I know that there are thousands of praying people who check this blog, I’m so humbled by your concern for me and my family. Will you pray as well for this dear family, and for Kathy in particular.

My friend Lisa shared with me today that a FACT is restricted by time. TRUTH transcends time. The fact is that I have cancer, but a moment could change that if God would choose. The fact was that Paul and Kathy were the picture of health. In a second that changed as well. We are not prisoners of the facts that can overwhelm when we are possessors of the Truth that can liberate us. That realization brings a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. All of these facts could be irrelevant tomorrow... so I wait and hope and keep the faith. Thank you for praying!

Moments from the Museum
(Or as Kate calls it, “Thanks for letting me play in the bathtub at the zoo!”)

Words of Wisdom

Fri, 29 Jan 2010 22:54:24 -0500

I’m skimming through an old book about Georgi Vins in available moments here and there. He was a man of great honor and faithfulness in the face of persecution. He includes a letter from his father Peter who actually died in a Siberian prison camp. What is it about Jesus that takes wimpy, comfort loving, self-preserving mankind and makes them willing to suffer anything rather than deny Him? Peter Vins wrote “It is better to be with Him in prison than at liberty without Him.”

He also wrote a gripping statement in a New Year letter to encourage the believers in Christ. As a man who understands suffering and distress, he spoke to my heart, and I wanted to share it with you.

“Yet another year has come to it’s end.
A year which seems to have begun only yesterday.
A year which has brought to many of the Lord’s faithful no little grief, suffering, and hardship.
A year when more than one tear was shed.
A year when the Lord like an eagle destroyed through circumstances more than one nest of cherished hopes, dreams, and private plans, but then caught us up and bore us on His wings, to teach us to walk by faith and not by sight, that is, by senses and feelings.”

I heard someone on the radio last night talking about “senses and feelings.” They were saying that when you are at the bottom of a situation, you must climb up the ladder of your “knowings.” The things you know to be true, but may not feel so certainly.

So here are a few rungs on the ladder of my knowing. As I wrote in my very first blog post about cancer, I’ll start there again...

- God is good. He was before cancer, and He still is now.
- God is trustworthy, though not understandable
- God is working on a bigger canvas than I can comprehend
- He weeps with us as we suffer (This is a new realization for me. Watch Jesus at Lazarus’ tomb, weeping and groaning three different times even though He knew the end was great! He hurt to see the toll of evil on those He loved. After my surgery I asked while looking in that awful mirror, “Does this even matter to You that this had to happen to me?” I got my answer while reading about Lazarus’ tomb.)
- Better to be facing Cancer as a child of God than healthy without Him
- Every day has the opportunity to rejoice

Add a few rungs of your own, and let’s climb!

at times a good laugh is just what the doctor ordered!

Tue, 26 Jan 2010 15:37:05 -0500

I hope the little video above give you all a smile like it did for us. Caleb is just delighted when his big brothers and sisters take the time to entertain him, he doesn’t realize he’s really the one putting on the show!

I’ve spent the morning on the phone with various and sundry doctor’s offices, and figured I had better let everyone know where we are at medically. I was seen by an oncologist at Akron General who agreed with a recommendation from Alaska, which is to put me on Xeloda. It is a chemo pill, less harsh than an infusion, and it makes the cells in the body very susceptible to radiation. I would take it along with radiation.

The thinking is that my chance of cancer returning to the original site is over 25% and the only known way to improve that chance is radiation. That may bring my numbers down a lot, so if we can make that radiation MORE effective, the better chance I have of not having a recurance there. The problem is that with increased damage to the cancer cells, we’re also increasing the damage to everything else the radiation touches. (More burning, scarring, etc.)

There is another chemo pill also being suggested which I would take along with herceptin until the end of my “cancer year.” It’s called Lapatinib or Tykerb. According to Wikipedia, it has really complex and limited usage... it must be used with Xeloda, it must be for a HER2+ cancer that has already been treated with the exact chemo I have had, and not had sufficient results. Well, I qualify for that, and the site also says that in those settings, it has reduced recurrence by 51%. I love big numbers that are for me, not against me!

So, we’re still trying to seek a further opinion... I found out today that Cleveland Clinic will not see me due to my medicaid in Alaska. One door closed, we’re praying about the next one to open. So many people have been concerned, sent recommendations, etc. Thank you SO much for caring for us, and we’re following up on every lead we get, trusting the Lord to direct us to the right place.

The question I’m wrestling with is if I am indeed to take these additional chemos. It may be easier to tolerate, but it is still poison. Will you pray with me that we will feel clear direction for how to proceed?

Oh yes, some good news. I had a PET scan yesterday to check again for additional tumors, and nothing was found. They’d have to be pretty big to show up, but hurray for a clear scan!

I’ve got to run, more contacts to make! Thanks for reading and caring about us!

A warrior’s memories

Mon, 25 Jan 2010 00:33:15 -0500

I sat tonight and listened to my Grandpa share stories about the battle of Iwo Jima where he was wounded in the war. It was a really special to share the time with him, and I felt honored to be a recipient of his musings. As the conversation progressed he shared about how you become accustomed to things that can in the first place be so terrifying. What once horrified you becomes the norm.

I guess it’s kind of how we were created... you can only bear so much distress and then you eventually start to cope. There have been places through this whole process where I have been deeply overwhelmed, felt pain that feels unbearable, and haven’t wanted to cope with the every day elements of life. I’m grateful to say they aren’t daily or even often. Praise God for putting optimism in my psyche! For the most part I’m just living life, enjoying the moments, grateful for the blessings.

But it’s been a bit harder the last week or so. Unlike the normal way I operate, I’ve been finding myself so bummed that I have cancer, so disheartened at my physical self, and just so sick of the process. It’s not typical for me, and I don’t like it. There is a place in me that wants to write out a permission slip to be mopey, kind of like a day off for good behavior...”After six months of good attempts and general success at being perky, Carlee Hobbs is entitled to one week of a self pity and general grungy feeling.”

But that little voice of truth inside keeps interrupting me just when I’m about to sink into a luxurious bout of the doldrums, “This is when it matters... when it’s hard. This is when it counts, when effort is required.” Who cares if you ace the pop quizzes and fail the final exam?

I’ve been blessed with several voices of confirmation to that thought. One came from a sermon by Tony Evans called “God’s Trickbag.” Oh wow. He looks at different places where God contradicts Himself in Scripture. He reminds us that even when you’re doing exactly what you’ve been told, you can suddenly find yourself in a storm. Like when Abraham was told to sacrifice Isaac. Not only did it look like the loss of the promise, it was against God’s law to kill! This is crazy stuff!

His main illustration was the disciples on the sea when Jesus said to go to the other side. They’re just busy obeying Him when a storm comes that seems to threaten their very existence. He said when God puts you in that trick bag with no way out, that He is about to take you to a deeper place spiritually.

That’s timely encouragement, because I’m feeling the trick bag effect. One of the things we’re exploring are some alternative treatments, some would even involve going out of the country. Some have come to us very highly suggested, and it’s all really intriguing. But it has such a barb, because we both agree that we couldn’t follow these programs and remain in Nome. Could God really want us to do something that would compromise our calling and purpose? We are certain that God wants us to be living and serving in Alaska. Ouch, it’s like a check book that won’t balance!

Tony Evans makes so many profound statements through the sermon, and one that has deeply struck me is the reminder that while the disciples are in this storm on the sea, and they see Jesus coming towards them, they freak out. Why? They don’t recognize him, and that is simply because they weren’t expecting Him in that dark hour. There is a little fear in me that if I let my “issues” loom to large in my sight that I’ll stop looking for Jesus to come across the sea, stomping my storm under His feet.

Dani wrote a song for me back in the beginning of this whole journey, she calls it “The Climb.” As a Christmas gift she recorded it with the children so I could have it on my ipod. It is priceless to me, and in the words I hear her heart of faith for me. The last verse says, “A while ago I looked up - saw the place where I’m at now and prayed, - “God, I can’t go there, don’t ask me to!” - But now that I’m here - I see the beauty all around me - for Jesus really does make all things new.”

I have to admit I’m not seeing much beauty or newness here. Maybe I’ve got on the wrong glasses, maybe the storm has become too big in my eyes and is obscuring the identity of the One who walks over these waves.

I’m going to post Dani’s song here so you can hear it. And I think maybe I’ll listen again... better yet, I think I’ll sing along! “ So my heart takes courage and my eyes look up...”

Another brief update

Sun, 17 Jan 2010 00:14:40 -0500

Well it’s another brief update here. It’s been a busy but good week. I just typed a message for our home church in Nome, and I’m once again going to copy it here. My lymph edema has been a bit better, but my hand is still so puffy. Typing still makes that worse. For the first time in months, it seems to me that the Lord is lingering near, I’m crying a lot more but feeling comforted a lot more too. Hmmm, odd significance there.

I thought you’d enjoy some pics of what we’re up to here. We just celebrated Christmas with my grandparents tonight. It was so fun! Grandma even left up the Christmas decorations for us! An amazing family we had never even met brought dinner for our family on a really busy and overwhelming day. More than the amazing food they shared with us (Have you ever had carrot soufflé’ - How have I lived so long without knowing about carrot souffle’?) I was blessed by the knowledge that they had been praying for us for so long. It is humbling and enriching to be loved by strangers!

God gave me grace in my radiation prep... my mobility after surgery is still limited, and trying to lift my arms into the braces so they could prepare me for laser placement was excruciating. I honestly didn’t think I could do it, but somehow the grace was there and it’s over. Yeah! Things seem to move a bit slowly there, but I am so hopeful to start as soon as possible.

If you don’t mind reading someone else’s mail, I’m going to once again copy the letter I just sent to Nome Covenant. It seems the easiest way to get this updated and still get some sleep tonight!

Dear Church Family,

I have heard of your sacrificial fasting and prayer for us, and I just want you to know how very grateful I am.   My radiation prep is completed, I am just awaiting them to schedule my first treatment.   Hopefully monday will see that finalized.

I feel that the Lord has really been unifying Nathaniel and my heart as we have talked through options and about how to proceed.   I'll bet that's a direct answer to someone's prayer there at Nome Covenant.   Thank you!   We've been looking at everything from traditional stuff at top cancer centers to unconventional stuff out of the country.   Our hearts are very open to what God would have us do.   We're weeding through piles of paperwork, suggestions, phone numbers to call.   A few things have clarified, and we have pursued appointments with those doctors.

One doctor it seems to be impossible to get in to, but she keeps rising to the top as the next consultation we need to make.   On Friday we had some special time in prayer that the Lord would open a door if He was wanting us to get an appointment (it is at the Cleveland Clinic Cancer Center.).   Within an hour, someone from their office actually called us!   Through a set of small miracles, I ended up on the phone with Nicole, who is very interested in our situation and asked us to send my files.   She's working to figure out exactly who we are supposed to see, and seems to be really purposeful in making sure that I will be able to consult there.   I am so grateful to the Lord for working this out, and I'm praying that He will work through Nicole and enable her to connect the necessary dots to get us in there quickly.

Soon after I was diagnosed, I was reading about Paul and Silas in prison.   I always know about how they were freed from their chains, but this time I noticed what preceded.   They were stripped, beaten, unjustly tried, taken to the inmost cell, put in stocks, and then they sat in pain as the hours passed.   At last we find them singing at midnight.   I see in that story that God sometimes asks His children to wait a long time while a lot goes wrong.    I suppose they would have been glad to never be arrested, even as I would gladly have never had cancer.   I don't know what is ahead in this story God is writing for us.   I'd like to think it's near midnight, and He's about to blow the bars of this joint, and we will be freed from this prison of sickness and pain.   But maybe it's only 9:00 PM, and there are long hours to pass ahead.   I know some of you are in your own cells, different than mine, but nonetheless trying to our souls.   Let's not give the enemy a single moment of victory.   Let's not take the easy road of doubt and blame.   What do you say we sing together till midnight comes?   May the chorus send the enemy fleeing and rejoice the heart of our Savior.

I love you all so much!
Singing with you, Carlee for Nathaniel as well

IN THE CASE OF UNCERTAINTY...

Wed, 13 Jan 2010 00:51:57 -0500

Better safe than sorry! I just wanted to clarify a bit of my last post that has caused some confusion. I mentioned in the letter to my church that the cancer is assumed to have traveled to the rest of my body, though it has not formed tumors that we know of, etc.

Please understand that I am not saying that I have cancer everywhere in the sense of having it metastasized in my lungs, brain, and other spots. I am simply saying that the lymph system is the door to the body. If those nodes hold back the cancer it is localized to the breast. They did not, they were overcome by the cancer, and thus my doctors assume that they’re floating throughout my system, seeking residence.

Hopefully the naturopathic things that I am taking along with herceptin and God’s mercy will block those cells from forming a new cancer. The odds are against that, but hope is not.

So to those of you who were picturing my body full of disease, I’m actually fine just now! It is the risk being so high that has my docs concerned.

Psalm 3 talks about God breaking the teeth of our enemies and saving us. I had pictured those cells almost like wolves, breaking through the protection of my lymph system and seeking to devour me left and right. Now I’m picturing these little pac-man like cells, gumming their way around until my immune system kills them, unable to do harm because they’re teeth are broken! Hurray!

Not much new, just waiting for doctor’s visits, following up leads, and trying to catch up from jet lag! Thanks again for praying!

“I’m Leavin’ on a jet plane... don’t know when I’ll be back again”

Tue, 12 Jan 2010 00:17:45 -0500

Hello, friends from all over! Sorry for my long silence here on this blog. I’m writing from my Parent’s basement. It is finished so nicely into a great apartment, providing us with a little home for as long as we need it.

So much has happened in the last weeks. Returning from surgery, Holidays, sending off Dani, Dad, and Noah and Shaina to Ohio ahead of us, tests and visits in Anchorage, then the big trip down here. I’m exhausted! It’s good to be here safe and sound and reunited as a family. The children’s reunion at the airport was incredible. They were shouting each other’s names and embracing with gusto I couldn’t have dreamed of. Little Wesley kept shouting, “Wo-wah, Wo-wa!” That’s what he calls Noah, and they are still seeming to enjoy being all together again.

I have been meaning to type here for weeks that my chemo brain symptoms have totally left. Praise the Lord! Thanks to everyone who prayed, it was NOT permananet. My lymphedema has gotten much worse, my hand and wrist are constantly swollen, and unfortunately, typing seems to make it even worse. We’re doing massage and I’m wearing a pressurized sleeve and glove to help keep it down.

As a result, I’m not going to type much here, the swelling is already increasing. Soon I’ll try again, there’s lots I wish I could share. Jesus has been very near these last days, for the first time in many long months, I can sense His close comfort. God’s Word has been very alive, and I’m grateful for the truths I have been finding there.

For the sake of sparing typing, I’m going to copy a letter uf update I sent to our church in Nome. It will help you understand where we’re at and how to pray more clearly. Please do keep praying! When they talk about my “odds” the picture is rather bleak. Sometimes you just have to find something to laugh at, so here’s one from Kate.

She informed my Dad tonight that the “A B C D E H I K Truck” was here. He was a bit confused. Then I realized that Kate had heard Mom mention the U P S truck. It just sounded like random letters to her! :)

Here’s the letter to the church... I’ll write more as I can! Oh yes, one last thing, I have an appointment with a specialist but not till February. I can call daily to see if there are cancellations, and I’m praying that something will open up soon! I’ll keep you posted!

Letter...

Greetings to the saints who are in Nome!   Your prayers for us are of such precious importance that I wanted to be sure you were updated following our visits with the surgeon and oncologist in Anchorage.   Let me first of all remind you and myself that our hope is in God - HE who formed and sustains us.

I'm not sure how to share all of this briefly, so please excuse the bluntness.   There is no consensus among my doctors or those that they sent my reports to for counsel. My oncologist basically stated that the assumption is that because surgery found my lymph system so packed with the aggressive cancer that it has indeed spread to the rest of my body.   As far as we know it has not begun forming tumors, but my rate of recurrence elsewhere is extremely high.   (I interrupt with a happy thought... we serve a God who loves to show up and demonstrate His power when the odds are stacking up against success!)

Some feel that I should continue with radiation and nothing else, basically just hoping it doesn't show up elsewhere or at least not for a while.   Others feel that I should try some sort of chemo basically out of compassion.   It's a shot in the dark because there are very few cases of my exact situation, and absolutely no studies that suggest what drug would be right to treat this.   They feel better to try something and hope it would work than to just wait for it to show up again.   They have encouraged me to seek specialists and second opinions and basically left it up to us without a specific recommendation.   There is no tried method to help at this point.

Already the Lord has begun to open doors for us, the top breast specialist at Cleveland Clinic is a friend of a friend and willing to meet with us.   We meet with my radiation oncologist on Monday. We need wisdom and guidance, God alone knows what we should do and how He intends to work.   Thank you for praying for us.   Psalm 3 has been blessing me with it's reminder of where our confidence should be...

"Lord, how they are increased who trouble me! Many are saying, 'There is no help for her in God.' But You, O Lord, are a shield for me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.   Salvation belongs to the Lord."

Nathan would like me to add that he is very aware that Satan's goal in our trials is to get us to damn God.   But we will choose to praise God who has already conquered him.   The Lord reminded Nathan of a statement He had given on our wedding day.   "Sheep may safely graze where the Shepherd has led them to pasture." It may not feel safe, but if the Shepherd led us here, He is the One keeping watch.   In that knowledge, we trust and we praise.

We love you!   Carlee for Nathaniel and the hobbits

We’re Home in Nome!

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 01:44:19 -0500

Hello from my very own couch by my very own Christmas tree where my very own sweet children are sleeping in their little beds. Deep sigh of contentment...... I’m home! Gratefully we were able to return Saturday evening just before a blizzard hit.

I’m exhausted, after the slower pace in Anchorage, this day full of the children’s Christmas program followed by a church potluck and lots of children’s hugs in between has worn me out! It’s a good sort of feeling, though, and I am so grateful to be back with my family.

I have to return on Tuesday for another visit with my surgeon, but I can hopefully go in the morning and return in the evening without overnighting in Anchorage.

I’m still in a good bit of pain... more after a day of unintentional jostling from children... they’re trying to be careful but they’re also a bit forgetful. Gratefully, things seem to healing fairly well. Nerve pain in my arms is the biggest frustration, and that can only take time.

We have no new plans. My Dad is coming in on Tuesday so we are hoping to enjoy Christmas here in Nome as a family. In the beginning of January we are still planning to travel to Ohio to begin my radiation treatment. On the way there, we will meet with my doctors regarding any new plans for treatment. By then my reports will have returned from the specialists looking at them. Until then, we’re just hoping to enjoy some family time.

I’m so grateful for everyone’s prayers. A few specifics would be -

- For my continued healing, and that my body will absorb the fluid that it is retaining in my wounds (It has to be removed by needle and syringe by my surgeon. OUCH!)
- For protection from the rambunctious loving of my wee folks. I’m home, but can’t even lift the baby, so Mom and Dani are carrying so much of the load.
- Wisdom for doctors as they are examining my reports
- For Nathaniel as he tries to get back into work, but is very concerned for me as well. He’s bearing such a load and your prayers mean a lot.
- A praise to the Lord for the wonderful friends in Anchorage who ministered so deeply to us. God’s family is amazing!

We are so honored that you all take time out of your holidays to pray for us. God bless you!

A quick news brief

Wed, 16 Dec 2009 03:10:25 -0500

Hello everyone! Yup, Nathaniel and I are still here in Anchorage, and Mom and Dani are still holding down the fort in Nome. I just wanted to jump on and give a quick update, I know you all are praying for us and I am so grateful.

Today is eleven days after surgery, and it has been a long road. I was released Monday night, and recovery has been much slower than we had hoped, but at least it has been steady.

My drain on the left side (with only two lymph nodes removed) came out pretty quick. Ouch! The right side drain is where I had all of the lymph nodes removed, and it is still causing some trouble. I need it to drain less than 20 cc’s for two days straight before I can get it out (and go home!) and were at 30 cc’s today.

I’ve done almost nothing because I have had a lot of pain. But the last two days I’ve been feeling better, and last night I decided to try to scrapbook a little. We’re talking scissors, a little glue... and while reaching to the trash can I succeeded in ripping out my stitches on one of the tubes going into my side, thus pulling out the drain tube about an inch. WOW! I didn’t know scrapbooking was dangerous. It’s been very painful, but still seems to be draining.

I guess my prayer request is for the wounds to heal well and dry up so I can get the drains out, and for a decrease in the pain I am having. Most of all, just for the clean bill of health to head home to Nome. I have my herceptin infusion tomorrow, as well a few more doctor’s visits in the next days.

As far as our hearts, we’re swimming in some deep waters. Please keep praying, we were blessed with a teaching series from James McDonald about suffering. We’ve been going through it bit by bit, and the Lord is using it to strengthen our hearts.

I know it’s just a short post, but my arms have a hard time holding typing position for too long just now. May God be near and dear to you this Christmas!

My new weight loss program

Sat, 12 Dec 2009 10:54:55 -0500

Well, I wouldn’t suggest it to anyone, but as the nurse weighed me at my oncologists, I had indeed lost a few pounds. Mastectomy surgery has a way of doing that to you... and I think it was the only time I wasn’t glad to see the scale go down! Five babies in the last seven years hasn’t exactly been kind to my waistline. It surely has filled my house with treasure, though!

I lost more than my breasts last week, I lost a lot of blood. My counts were already low, and during surgery I received a transfusion of my own blood, I had donated it the week before. My doctors were pretty concerned and the day after surgery my counts hadn’t gone down, but hadn’t gone up really either. They said we’d talk transfusion on Sunday. By God’s grace, on Sunday my counts had begun to move up just a bit, and I didn’t have to do that.

My blood is still low, and recovery has been slow, so I would be grateful if you would keep praying that the Lord will help my body to restore itself. I am indeed so grateful for your prayers. There have been some very dark shadows this last week, but also some places of blessing and peace.

I also lost a lot of lymph nodes. Two on the left side, where we rejoice to report that NO CANCER was found. Hurray! Seventeen on the right side, where six showed signs of having been full of cancer that was destroyed by the chemo. Only scar tissue remained. Hurray again!

In the right breast, where my tumor had been 95% aggressive invasive, and only 5% of the low lying, slower moving, ductal carcinoma in situ - they found no trace of the aggressive cancer. It is gone. Hurray, Hurray, HURRAY! These are excellent results, and my spirits are preparing to soar...

But there is a silver bullet, splicing through that good news, that has been threatening to tail-spin Nathaniel and I. In one lymph node, a small aggressive tumor was found. It is tiny, just 1.2 centimeters. But it’s there. In my lymph node. The gateway to the rest of my body.

No one is sure how it survived the chemo that destroyed everything else. And no one knows if it is the only one... or if in the lymph nodes that remain in me, higher up and deeper in, if there are more little tumors.

Terrible thought and blessed thought! It isn’t gone! That horrible little tumor means that somewhere the aggressive cancer survived. We still don’t know if radiation can clean up what remains. What does remain? Yet it IS gone, that surgery means that tiny tumor is no longer spreading in me. Maybe by God’s grace it is the only one, and He guided my doctor’s hand so that she got it....

They also found extensive cancer in my lymph system, the ducts and pathways leading between them. The cancer had spread into them, possibly following those little roads to other destinations. Once again, there is no certainty that ALL has been removed of the lymph system. And thus we have radiation scheduled in January.

Hopefully radiation will clean it all up, get the little pieces that could have been left by surgery. That was the plan from the beginning. But that little tumor has my doctor’s scratching their heads. They have admitted their uncertainty, and my pathology reports are being sent to other experts around the country.

The other option is to take chemo again, this time DURING my radiation. Better results in killing the cancer perhaps, but also a much deeper toll on my body. That is the question being asked of these other specialists, is more chemo worth the risk? I desperately hope they say NO! And then, in my mind, I see the six sets of blue eyes that make up my sweet little family, and I’m determined to do whatever I must to beat this nasty thing.

The truth is, only God knows if there is more cancer and how we should beat it. I am crying out to Him that my reports would fall into that hands of wise counselors, and that once again He would guide and direct us as we choose treatment. How I praise Him for His guidance thus far! I came 99% of the way to choosing to NOT have my lymph nodes removed, I was certain cancer was not there. But my peace eroded, and I prayerfully changed my mind. How I have rejoiced that as a result, that little aggressive tumor is gone from me!

We wanted a quick, easy recovery. It has been slow and hard. We wanted a clear cut clean pathology report. It has filled us with questions and uncertainty. In all honesty, it felt like a death sentence yesterday. Maybe I’m not going to get better. It has been a really hard thought to face again.

I was crying in a restaurant last night, Nathan had stepped away from the table and my tears were flowing. Wow, satan jumps on bad new with a lot of dark thoughts, and I was suddenly drowning in them. Like a shaft of light, Truth broke through. My trust is not in a pathology report! It never has been, and it never will be. My trust is in the Lord! He is my Keeper, my Maker.... He knows if there is more cancer and what the end result will be. He will be faithful through this all, I know it. I would be rejoicing if all is well, but that could have been because the Doctor had missed the tumor in the lymph node. No, truly, my only trust is in the Lord.

So that brings us up to this morning, where I’m still going through the kleenex as I write this. We’re a bit worn down by a week of pain and loss. How grateful I am for the prayers of so many, for the loving kindness of dear friends and fellow believers here in Anchorage that has blessed and uplifted us.

It seems like we’ll be here in Anchorage at least through the 17th. I’m missing my wee ones with an intense ache, but I know they’re doing well in the care of Mimi and Aunt Dani. I think my blood restoration has a lot to do with my slow recovery, and I am praying that my counts will return to healthy and that I can soon be stronger and in less pain.

Thank you a thousand times, dear people that hold us in your hearts and prayers. Pray for my sweet husband, his burden is great. Pray for my Mom too, she went through all of this here and then off to care for wee ones and It’s a lot to bear. Pray that we would be faithful to the Lord and the Truth in the face of many questions. And please pray, that if it would be the Lord’s will, that this cancer would indeed be destroyed, that radiation would be successful, and that I get to be Nathaniel’s wife and my children’s Mommy for a LONG time!

Surgery Tomorrow

Fri, 4 Dec 2009 01:10:51 -0500

This picture struck me as I was looking for something to open this blog post. What a happy day our wedding was! This man that God had blessed me with swept me off my feet and carried me into this unknown of marriage. Eight years later we are limping a bit, neither of us so strong as to carry each other, but these years have taught us both to lean hard on the third member of our union.... Almighty God. What a relief that tomorrow isn’t dependent on just us.

7:30 AM I head in for prep for my 9:00 AM surgery. I will have a bi-lateral mastectomy, the right side will have all of the lymph nodes removed as well due to the cancer found in those nodes this summer. The left side will have only a few lymph nodes removed, it’s mostly a precaution, but there is a slight possibility of cancer being there as well.

I don’t have much to say, honestly not feeling very chatty tonight. I am so grateful for the prayers of you dear people who are carrying our burden along with your own. Grateful for Ruthann who just arrived in Nome to help my brother and sister with the children, grateful for my dear Mother who is by my side once again, and for Nathaniel... still the man that I love! We’re none of us mighty, Please keep praying!

I guess I just want to declare that I still trust the Author of my biography. I still love Him, and I will take difficult places as a child of God over any peaceful palace far from Him. He’s not FEELING very near tonight, but I was told long ago to never doubt in the darkness that of which I was certain in the light.

iTunes is playing Aaron Espe in the background, a young musician who came here to Nome several years ago. His song “Be bold, Son” just came on, I’m taking it as my word for tonight from my Father in heaven.....

“Don’t look back, you’ve come so far,
It’s safe where you are.

Don’t be scared, you’re not alone,
so far from home.

And don’t play timid, don’t play cold,
Be bold, Son! Be bold, Son.
You’ll wish you had when the day is done,
Be bold, Son! Be bold, Son.

Look ahead, that’s where you’ll be.
Do you believe me?

And don’t be scared ‘cause you’ve gone so far,
It’s safe where you are.

And don’t play timid, don’t play cold,
Be bold, Son! Be bold, Son.
You’ll wish you had when the day is done,
Be bold, Son! Be bold, Son.

Sing out, sing out, sing out!

I do believe You, and I will sing.

Longings

Sun, 8 Nov 2009 19:22:33 -0500

“I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all of my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this.” - Jewel the Unicorn

This ranks with my favorite quotes of all times. It stirs my soul. Just as we laugh at jokes we can identify with, I love this so deeply because I see myself here. I’m having one of those unsettled days. Do you ever have them? You find yourself sad for no reason... no not quite sad. More of a sense of LONGING.

This quote is from C.S. Lewis’ “The Last Battle.” It takes place as the few faithful Narnian’s have actually met their death in the final battle, and in walking through a great door, have found themselves in a new land, a country they have never been to, yet it is so familiar. They begin to realize that the Narnia they had loved was really just a shadow, and THIS is the true Narnia, the place they were always destined for.

It is a picture of heaven. Those senses of longing that seem to have no source and no resolution, the ability to be laughing and suddenly end with a sigh... I firmly believe it is because this is not our home. We are living in the shadowlands, and our spirits long for our real country.

I was napping in the living room this Sunday afternoon but found myself feeling uneasy. “Why am I sad, Jesus?” It’s been a pretty good day overall, I stayed home with the kiddos from church but we had a good little church service of our own. Shaina led the singing (Jesus loves me) and Kate was supposed to take the offering. First she brought up her Bible to our piano bench pulpit and preached a little abstract sermon... something about Baby Jesus being so cute and getting a new pacifier when he was sad. Three year old theology isn’t real deep. :) Noah preached about Moses, and ended with the thought that if we are bad we get plagues but that if we are good we won’t. My brother and sister were here for lunch, my husband’s hair is getting long and starting to curl the way I love it, my teething baby smiled and tried to chew on my chin... what more could a girl want?

And yet my heart is restless, longing. Since I couldn’t figure out why, In figured I should ask the One who knows me better than I know myself. In just a moment or so, that quote popped into my mind, and my heart smiled a sad smile of understanding. Oh, yes! I sometimes forget... this isn’t my country! I’m a stranger here, at war with the accepted ideals and modes of operating. My body bears the battle scars that Eden never would have allowed, and my citizenship is elsewhere. I am longing today for heaven, for a glimpse of the One who understands things that boggle my mind, and for the rest from toiling that is a constant of life here on earth.

I don’t feel so sad now that I understand the source of the sorrow. It isn’t one that is without remedy, but it does require waiting, trusting, and investing in my true home. It is funny how cancer has a way of making you cling tighter to life and this world here... and yet in the same breath it makes you hold a bit more loosely and long a lot more for the rest and relief of heaven. And maybe the understanding that will come to questions we have here. Somehow, though, I don’t think the questions will be all that important in the light of eternity. As they say in the true Narnia... we’ll be too busy going “further up and further in!”

8 Years with my best friend

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 04:16:48 -0400

It’s late and I need to get to bed, but it’s been way too long since I’ve updated this site! I am excitedly nearing the end of this final chemo round, and gratefully feeling my strength increase. We had some hard days... the neulasta pain was finally managed by some strong pain medicine, and began to fade the next day. How grateful I am that didn’t happen every time!

We’ve been so busy here. Nathan managing the tobacco awareness table at the community heath fair here in Nome, and I was given an opportunity to speak at the annual Walk for the Cure event also here in Nome.

I had four strong days in a row... lots of energy and so much to do found me overdoing it a bit... and I crashed pretty hard last night. Dear Danielle kept the kids away from my room, and Nathaniel stole away my ipod alarm, and I slept some long deep hours as a result. I’m feeling stronger, and determined to go a little slower over the next few days. :)

We have set my surgery date, it is December 4th. Nathan is headed down for his Dad’s wedding just before that. To our sadness, the children and I will not be attending. We so wish we could be there, but my strength is just not sufficient for that trip before surgery.

My Mom will be with us during surgery, and a dear friend from Ohio, Ruthann Glaser, is coming to be a helping hand for Danielle with the children. Mom will then stay in Nome for December, and my Dad is also hoping to come so we can all have Christmas together there. Sometime in early January we’ll make the pilgrimage back to Ohio for my radiation.

So that’s a brief update. The highlight of my week was definitely the hours Nathan and I had away at the cabin together. What a gift to spend eight years of our life together! These last months have been a test of those vows we said so long ago. I tell you the truth, Nathaniel said it, meant it, and has been faithfully by my side through all of this. Thank you, Lord for such a husband and friend!

limping Along... towards the chemo finish line

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 03:23:49 -0400

Well, I’m getting a little desperate here... so I thought I’d give a shout out for some extra prayer support. It’s been a slow bounce back with this round of chemo. Umm, actually the bounce back hasn’t really started yet. My energy is low to non-existent, and I’ve been in pretty severe pain this afternoon and evening, I think as a result of my neulasta shot. As it encourages white blood cell production in my body, it’s making my bones ache.

Dani is a saint, working her heart out around here. She even rigged this hot pack out of a hat from the girl’s dress up box and bunch of rice - it brought a bit of relief, and I was so grateful. I don’t know what I would do without her!

So, I just thought I’d ask you all that are praying for us to keep it up, pray that I would get some relief from the bone aches, that my energy would increase, and for Dani and Nate as they are doing so much to care for the children and me.

Thanks to all of you who are praying and encouraging us... I’m reminded of the footprints in the sand poem, how in the hard places the Lord carried them. I know He is doing that for us, but I also know that the last steps to the top of the mountain can be the hardest!

The Hairplane out the window

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 05:40:47 -0400

“Mommy, I’m scared of the hairplane out the window.” This wasn’t the first time Kate had told me about her “hairplane” scare... but it was the first time she mentioned that it was out the window.
And there, at 5:30 AM, the light began to dawn.

Kate has a winsome way of adding and “h” to the beginning of words that start with vowels. For example, we go to the hairport to see hairplanes. We bake cookies in the hoven, and she plays with a purple hoctopus in the bath tub.

Multiple times she has stumbled to my bed in the wee hours to tell me she was afraid of the hairplane. Usually she’s shaky and tearful, and I’m confused. I thought she liked hairplanes.

But two mornings ago, it finally dawned on me (long before the actual dawn) that it must be a plane that takes off or lands around 5:30 in the morning. It is always about that time when she has awakened me.

I told her not to worry, the plane was flying far away, and it wouldn’t come in the window. Gratefully, that has seemed to settle the issue... either that or the pilot just hasn’t flown his early morning run the last two days!

That picture was what came to my mind when I laid in bed a little while ago and tried to sleep. I was contemplating the word “Abba.” Daddy, the intimate name we’re allowed to call Almighty God when we are his children. I was laying in bed trying not to sniff and wake Nathaniel as tears were running down my cheeks. Suddenly, I thought of how to express it. “Abba, I’m scared of the hairplane.”

It was comforting to think that the same compassion that I feel as a parent when my little girl is scared beside my bed was now available to me. (Minus the foggy brain and sleepy mumbling Kate gets from me!) Unfortunately, my scary airplane did come through the window, and we’ve been dealing with the havoc it wreaked for the last several months.

Someone asked me today if I’m nervous about this last round of chemo. I glibly answered that I didn’t think so, I feel pretty good. You can put up with anything when you know it’s the last time. So I’ve been packing, cleaning, getting ready to leave on the morning flight, and all the while this heavy feeling of dread has been growing. Finally around 11 PM, while throwing in a load of laundry, I realized the source... I must be nervous about this next round!

Around 1 AM, as I was getting ready to get in bed, I admitted to myself that I wasn’t feeling nervous, I was SCARED! Not just of the chemo ahead, but of the fact that I don’t know what comes after that. Several people have asked, “What’s next?” and I don’t have an answer. Do I keep going for checkups? Does the cancer start to grow again? How soon till surgery? I just don’t know yet. I guess we’ll start finding out tomorrow.

Well I tried to sleep and instead I cried, and wished I could make it all go away. Thinking of Kate brought a smile through my tears. It’s easy for me to not worry about a flight overhead... I’m big, and have that special knowledge that the flight plan doesn’t include collision with our house! I’m grateful to tonight to remember that my Heavenly Father never sleeps, and that He knows what to do about my scary hairplane.

So, like Kate, I guess I’ll go back to bed, and let my Father tuck my spirit in securely, and drift off to sleep satisfied that He knows I’m scared, and I’ve been promised that it’s all under control.

Hurray, Uncle Nate is Here!

Fri, 9 Oct 2009 13:46:14 -0400

We were blessed this week with the arrival of Uncle Nate Sobie! My brother lived here for almost a year right after Nathaniel and I were married. He has completed his flight training on the way to being a missionary pilot, and is now hoping to get a flight job in Alaska. At least for this month, however, he’s come to Nome to see his sick sis and get to know some nieces and nephews better. He’s also got a job here and a is staying with a guy from church, so it will be a busy time. His goal is to get a flight job in Anchorage, Fairbanks, or even Nome or a village. Flying in Alaska is GREAT training... we have so many challenging situations, and he’s needing to rack up hours. We’re praying that the Lord will direct his steps, and SO glad to have him here for a little while.

This weekend they’re calling for a big storm... I can hardly wait! In the fall we often have crazy storms, and being only 1/2 a block off of the Bering Sea, the view is amazing! The salt spray can hit the house! It will be fun to share the wildness with Danielle and Nate. Speaking of them, you can keep up with them at www.natesobie.com and www.theinvisiblereality.blogspot.com - Dani posts a lot of stuff about life here. She just recently posted the most amazing poem she wrote. Wow! While I’m listing them, my big brother Scott has a web site as well for his family as they minister in Ukraine. It is www.thesobies.com

We head out Tuesday, probably in the morning this time, for the final round of chemo. Hurray! I’ll try to let you know how it goes.

Not being Anxious

Fri, 9 Oct 2009 04:00:00 -0400

Philippians 4:6-7 (New King James Version)
6 Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; 7 and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

This was the verse that Jesus gave me a week ago Sunday. I’ve been wanting to blog about it since then, but it seems hard to find the time just now. With homeschooling added to life with five small children, the days just keep getting busier!

First, I need to thank everyone for your prayers for me this round of chemo. I have been weaker, but not tormented by the mouth sores and neuropothy of the last round. Several other side effects that I’ve gotten every time (like severe diarrhea) have just not happened at all! I am so grateful! Thank you for caring about me and asking the Lord to help me through this round! Only one more to go. Hurray!

After the last round, I have found myself fairly tormented by the realization that the relative safety of chemo is fast receding, and the great unknown of surgery lies ahead. I was so troubled and distressed, not certain of how to proceed, but certain that proceed I must! I finally decided to take some time Sunday afternoon to really pray and seek direction.

Everyone was napping, and I curled up with my Bible and a study I am working on. It was quite an armchair journey, it seemed everything I read was with a purpose! The verse I opened with was the cumulation, and the answer from the Source of peace that I was seeking.

As I read, It felt like God and I were having a mental conversation, BE ANXIOUS FOR NOTHING. “Carlee, you are so anxious.” “I know I am! I hate it, but I feel so uncertain and distressed! I can’t manufacture peace! What am I supposed to do?” I read on, WITH THANKSGIVING, PRESENT YOUR REQUEST TO GOD. “That’s your answer! Bring all this distress you feel, all of the questions you need answered, and unload it on me... I’m big enough for it, and I’m also the only One who knows the path you need to be taking.” “I know all that, but that seems a bit surreal, and I need real-world answers here.”

AND THE PEACE THAT SURPASSES ALL UNDERSTANDING... “I already knew this would challenge you! This is the part where you stop controlling and start trusting. That ‘surpasses all understanding’ part means that to you it doesn’t make sense - it isn’t any less true, though!” “But what will happen if I truly just presented my case to You and leave it at that? What about all of the tormented wonderings that are flitting constantly through my mind?”

PEACE... WILL GUARD YOUR HEART AND MIND. “Then I stand as Gatekeeper, and this torment you’ve been tolerating will have to check in with Me before gaining entrance.” “How did you know the problem I would be facing and already write the solution ahead of time? God, you’re amazing!”

So, I decided to risk it. Why does it feel so risky to lay down my silly worrying... like I was accomplishing anything anyway! I cried and sniffled and told the Lord all of the things He already knew. It was a relief to express it just the same!

And somehow clarity began to emerge from the fog, and a bit of hope that I would actually be able to be at peace with the final decisions that need to be made. I felt like the mastectomy date I had set was NOT the right timing, and I started getting some ideas for better timing. I also felt some direction regarding the pursuit of some second opinions and confirmation that the counsel we’ve been given is the right direction for us.

And then the peace came. I don’t know why the formula works, maybe because I knew my concerns had been presented to the only One who actually knows the what the outcome of this all should be. I’m just happy to report that the promised peace has been my companion over these last ten days. It hasn’t been once and done! I have needed to keep presenting my requests, and the “with thanksgiving” part has been a challenge at times. I’m learning, though!

We are talking and researching and pursuing solutions.... trying to be certain that the medical decisions we make are wise and right for us. The ultimate decision maker will be peace - when I can stand without doubts and second guessing, I’ll know that we’re ready to proceed.

I think we’re making progress, though definitely not at that destination. I guess that’s the new prayer request, pray that I’ll know what questions to ask and be directed where to find the answers.

Sorry for being so wordy! Being succinct is not a strong point, especially with this foggy chemo-brain! I’ll let you know what’s next.... when I know!

Round 5

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 18:09:44 -0400

Thanks to everyone who has been praying for me as I tackled round 5 of chemo. Only one more to go after these three weeks are up. I did much better in Anchorage, and we a lot less sick on the plane coming home. Thanks so much, I know you’re prayers mattered! Sorry if this doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, my brain is pretty foggy tonight!

Today’s been a bit of a rough day, I think it’s a bit hard on Dani and Nate when they can see the affects of the chemo in me. We all feel a little bit discouraged a few days after chemo! So many weird symptoms that are definitely getting stronger and more frustrating. I’m glad to be almost done.

We’re still laughing, though, and enjoying this time we get to share together. I don’t know what I would do without this support team of Nate and Dani. They’re amazing. Dani did laundry like a crazy lady today, playing with children, and keeping this house afloat. She’s such a blessing.

I’ll probably stay back from church in the morning, just don’t have enough strength right now to do the steps very well, let alone a morning in the pew with small children. Any Mommy could tell you that’s like an olympic event! When everyone sits like little saints, it’s better than winning the gold!

A random funny moment you all might appreciate... one of my side effects is that everything tastes metallic and yucky, even water. Last night, I told Nathan how even the toothpaste tasted weird. I could hardly taste mint, and it even seemed to lather weird. A few minutes later I finished emptying my toiletries bag from the trip to find that my body wash had leaked all over.... yeah, on my toothbrush too! I guess my bad taste buds spared me the misery because I couldn’t really tell much of a difference.

I’m just sort of rambling here, so I guess I’d better get to bed. I just wanted to let everyone know that we’re hanging in there, and to thank you for continuing to pray. We got a lot of information on this last trip down, and now we need a lot of wisdom for these final decisions as far as surgery and radiation. Thanks for praying for us!

Pressing ever onward

Fri, 18 Sep 2009 03:59:42 -0400

I have been telling myself for days that I will update this poor neglected blog. “This afternoon I’ll sit down and write....” Well, I’m pretty much always tired in the afternoon, and with five children, my spare moments have seemed pretty sparse, especially now that we’ve officially started home schooling!

Well, I was just about to fall into the bliss of bed when I realized that yet another day has gone by without updating this blog. So, I’m opting for a short update as better than nothing. :)

We are doing so well, and I know that the prayers of God’s people have a lot to do with that. Like all of you, our life is not without trials, just living seems to be a challenge at at times, and that’s without cancer in the equation. Cancer is helpful in a way, it has an ability to help you prioritize!

With seven weeks remaining in my chemo, I am so grateful for the strength that I have. Some days I feel almost normal, just a bit more tired. Other days, like today, I am suddenly stripped of all strength, and that’s when dear Dani rises to to challenge! I slept most of the morning without even meaning to, and after lunch and a blood draw this afternoon, I slept until dinner. What a blessing to have her here when I am suddenly so weak. Hopefully tomorrow will be a stronger day.

The children are completely well now, for which we are so grateful. Caleb has slept through the night for five straight nights, and I am rejoicing! Wesley is currently obsessed with cars, and it’s about all he wants to talk about, Cars and Daddy. :) Kate was learning to draw circles in her “school” today, while Shaina is learning to write her name and Noah is doing terrific with his reading. Nathan and I are trying to balance life and responsibilities here with the weight of what we are facing regarding my health. Such a strange balancing act! We try to grab little moments to talk about the heavy things ahead, and we’re working on singing and praising more!

As far as my health, I head back next Tuesday for my next round of chemo. We will be meeting with several doctors about the plans for my upcoming mastectomy and radiation as well as having a mugga heart scan to see how my heart is holding up against the herceptin.

It may seem a bit confusing, that the cancer has reduced so much and is responding so well, but I still have to have mastectomy and radiation. First of all, let me ask for your prayers for our wisdom. We haven’t finalized any plans, and we are asking God for His perfect peace and clear direction.

Our doctor’s advice thus far has been a unanimous voice saying that the only way to be as certain as possible that the cancer is gone is to follow through with surgery and radiation. I would say that all along we’ve been open to a miracle, sometimes pleading for it! Thus far, it doesn’t seem that an easy way out is in the agenda for us. And in the same sort of terror that you feel when climbing the big hill on a roller-coaster, I am peering past chemo into surgery with the hope and confidence that this thing IS connected to a track somewhere! My destination has been pre-charted, and I can just hang on for the ride! It’s been pretty overwhelming to me at times in the last few weeks, I guess we wouldn’t learn and grow if it was all easy!

So, that’s where we are at. My week after chemo has become increasingly exhausting, even emotional, but usually about 5-6 days afterwards I start to feel my strength returning. I’m dreading that process again, but encouraged by the good results with my tumor shrinking.

I’ll try to write more later, I’m learning so much, and I long to share it with you! Until then, I hope you enjoy this bit of an update on life. Thanks for praying for us!

Strength for the journey

Sat, 5 Sep 2009 19:55:14 -0400

Well, after our super good news of the reduction of my tumors, we sort of skidded back to reality that this whole cancer thing isn’t over yet! This round of chemo is certainly taking it’s toll, I’m exhausted! We came home to find Miss Kate sick with a fever, and it has since hit the other three, and we now have four very sick little hobbits! I just thought I’d jump on and ask you all to be in prayer for us, that the children recover quickly and that the big people of the house not get sick. What a blessing it is to have Dani here... I don’t know what we’d do without her!

Hurray! Hallelujah! Happy day!

Wed, 2 Sep 2009 13:56:55 -0400

I just had to jump on and give a cyber-shout for joy! Nathan and I arrived last night with Caleb for round four of my chemo. I am officially past the half way point, three rounds under my belt or bra... as the case may be! (I wasn’t sure if I should say that, but the thought cracked me up, and Nathan said I could -lol:-) The morning started at 8:15 with an ultrasound, we’re off to the oncologists at 11 AM, and then my chemo commences at 1:00 PM , it should take about five hours.

Okay, back to rejoicing! The first tech trying to find my tumor was uncertain, and so we waited while they found the original tech who had mapped it in the beginning, and helped with putting the metal markers in. (Her name is Carla, she is so sweet and encouraging!) Anyway, Carla came, and she did find the tumor... sort of. At least what’s left of it!

It has shrunk significantly, to the point that it’s uncertain how much is tumor and how much is just marred tissue! The other smaller tumors out to the sides couldn’t be found at all! Dr. Farley, the radiologist came back to confirm the findings and see Caleb. She was also so excited, and told us that these are as good of results as they could ever hope to see.

And after months of a lot of bad news, I suddenly remember the verse that says “how beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news.” I would have gladly kissed Carla’s feet right about then!

GOOD NEWS! I almost forgot what that was! My heart is full of praise and gratitude to the Lord! HE is the one who give wisdom to doctors, and I believe with all of my heart that HE is the one who directed us to choose the chemo that would use herceptin first.

Thank you a thousand times to you dear friends, so many of you I’ve never even met.... thank you for praying for us! Thank you for praying that my cancer would be conquered! I still have cancer, but progress is being made. I could hardly wait to run back to our room and rejoice with you.... good news at last!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just one last note. We saw and amazing video this week, it is called “living proof” and stars Harry Connick Jr. Nathan was looking for a video at our little store, that probably holds less than a thousand videos... and was intrigued by the cover. When he turned it over, he was shocked to see that it was the story of the doctor that created herceptin. We watched it that evening, and pretty much cried through the whole thing. It was sort of like seeing our life on screen, with the exception of acknowledging God as our ultimate hope. It is unrated, appropriate, and if you’re interested, it’s a fascinating look at this drug that has only been around for 11 years, and has been used to save so many lives, including my own. Have the kleenex nearby!

Right-sizing God

Sun, 23 Aug 2009 04:16:30 -0400

The two pictures above have a lot of significance for me. The first contains two very precious gifts. The bottle rests on a quilt that was given to me by my Mom the day before she left for Ohio. To my amazement, she had been working on it the entire time we were in Anchorage. It is spectacular, and full of deep significance, sort of a documenting of this journey. I never knew she was even at work on it... slipping in to the quilt shop where they were lending her their machine when she was out shopping, after dropping me off at appointments, etc.

The bottle itself is from my sister Danielle. She gave it to me as a tear bottle, a visual reminder that my tears, maybe even the ones just cried in the spirit, matter to God. He said they do, that He is taking account of each one.

The second picture was taken when Nathan and were first in Anchorage for this last round of chemo... From my perspective, it was a disaster, ending in surgery, exhaustion, and a tough climb back to strength. But the first evening we met with a great friend, Matt Johnson. After getting slightly turned around, we found an amazing trail that took us up towards Byron Glacier. The scenery was HUGE, beyond the scope of what your eyes could really accept.

While Nathan and Matt were checking out an ice cave, I sat on a pile of rocks for a few minutes to rest. Caleb was in the front pack on my chest, sleeping soundly. The sound of the stream rushing by covered the sound of my voice... giving me courage to start singing. The words of this song came to me, and as the mountains towered overhead, I found myself worshiping in for the first time in a long time.

Immortal, invisible,  God only wise,  In light inaccessible  hid from our eyes,  Most blessed, most glorious,  the Ancient of Days,  Almighty, victorious,  Thy great Name we praise.

Unresting, unhasting,  and silent as light,  Nor wanting, nor wasting,  Thou rulest in might;  Thy justice, like mountains,  high soaring above  Thy clouds, which are fountains  of goodness and love.

To all, life Thou givest,  to both great and small;  In all life Thou livest,  the true life of all;  We blossom and flourish  as leaves on the tree,  And wither and perish--  but naught changeth Thee.

Great Father of glory,  pure Father of light,  Thine angels adore Thee,  all veiling their sight;  All laud we would render;  O help us to see  'Tis only the splendor  of light hideth Thee,

And suddenly, God began to be right-sized in my eyes. Not that I had been purposely making Him small... I think I had just let so many of my cancer situations fill my vision that they were looming like giants. They shrunk to their rightful pea-size, and my heart was caught away in the awareness of a God who was both unresting and unhasting. What a thought! Tireless and Purposeful, that is the God who is willing to carry me through this valley.

That place at the foot of the glacier has become a place that I can close my eyes and suddenly be. I’ve gone there in the morning, when I’m tired and don’t really feel like facing the day. I went there, weary and wasted, when Harvey and Nancy prayed over me last Sunday night.

How is it that we forget to worship, or pray, or meditate, or any other countless number of spiritual disciplines? Perhaps less than forgetting, it’s just that there are seasons for some of these things. I think I’ve been in the season of desperate clinging, if there is such a thing! But even as seasons begin to change here in Nome, maybe my season is changing as well... to a place of less pleading, more praising. Can our spiritual season change when our circumstantial one hasn’t? I’m thinking it must!

A friend here in Nome sent us an encouraging email this morning, and he made a statement that struck me so deeply. He said in his prayer, “ You are our well from which we can draw continuously and when we go back to You, You are always gracious and giving.”

I have found this true! These last 2 and 1/2 months of cancer journey I have found in God a well deep enough to draw from and not compromise it’s flow. And He’s never condemned me for coming, limping and wounded, so thirsty for the grace and hope I had previously found.

It’s not that I am loving having cancer! I’ve found that in my mind I have this funny fondness for things that happened before I knew about the cancer, like they are hued with with a rosiness that I haven’t caught sight of in a long while.

But there are new hues to life now, not very pretty ones, but so capturing. I think they are the browns and grays of bedrock. Stripping away the soil and finding that this Rock we have built our life on is sufficient for the storm.

I’m not sure what all of this rambling means... I guess that I’m still weeping, still comforted by the realization that my tears matter to Him. I think it also means that like the woman of so long ago, I don’t want to live my life just filling up bottles in the tear bank of heaven! I want to somehow lavish them back on Jesus, worshipfully washing His feet with the product of these days, trusting tears. Not that anything I can do would augment God, but many things I can do can help to keep His grandness in perspective.

We’re still here!

Fri, 21 Aug 2009 07:05:15 -0400

Thanks to everyone who has been praying for us, and still checking back to look for an update. My surgery went well according to my doctor, and we are grateful for that. It has hit me pretty hard, though... I think the combination of my chemo two days before, and the drugs from surgery have made a comeback feel like scaling Denali. We’ve had some pretty low days, low energy, low hope a few times.

Monday evening, when I was still so weak, I kept thinking how tired everyone must be of praying for me, being burdened by our situation. Just about then, emails and calls started trickling in, a little river of encouragement and love. It seems that you all are more enduring than me - still praying, believing, and loving us from afar.

How blessed I am with friends who will not become weary with our trials. May I be such a faithful friend to you someday! My strength is growing very slowly, and I’m still weaker than I’ve been.... But I am indeed getting my strength back, and hopeful again.

I’ll write more later, just wanted to let you all know we’re okay!

Here we go again!

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 05:19:16 -0400

Well, in just a few hours I head in for surgery prep for the installation of a medi-port. This is a port that is hidden under my skin, it will be accessed each chemo session and blood draw through a needle. I guess it’s a bit painful for a while, because some of the tissue of my chest has to be carved out to create a bed of sorts for it to lay in.

We would be so grateful for your prayers! For Mom, who has an extended time with the children while we are gone, for Caleb who is coming down with a stuffy nose and having a hard time sleeping tonight, and for Nathan and I as we remember that faith is the substance of things we can not see.

I don’t want to be like Thomas, needing proof of Jesus and His reality. I want to trust even when things aren’t exactly going my away. I believe that the Lord knows my catheter got pulled out... He said He counts our tears, and I certainly shed a few! And if He knows, I can cast this care on Him, because the Bible says that He cares for me. Thanks for praying, we’ll let you know how it goes!

A Pictorial walk through our first week home

Mon, 10 Aug 2009 05:06:31 -0400

Home is where the heart is, and for us that’s Nome, Alaska!

Mon, 3 Aug 2009 04:58:42 -0400

Hallelujah, we’re home! With grateful hearts, our family has returned to Nome more than six weeks after we first left for Anchorage. So much has happened! I feel so humbled by the realization that our friends and family have truly carried through this valley. Often I have felt too weary to “face” it all, too weary to pray with passion over situations we were facing, and then someone would call or write and share that they had been praying for us, facing our situation head on and bringing it to the Lord in our behalf. Thank you for not being weary with our load, but for carrying us along!

It seemed this last week in Anchorage that we would never get home. Every day brought some new medical complication... quirks from the chemo that have to be worked through. The last problem came just before we were supposed to be leaving for the airport on Friday. It seems that my arm is swelling on the side where I had two lymph nodes removed.

An ultrasound showed that there are no blood clots, which is good. The swelling however is not good, it’s a sign of lymphedema, something that I have dreaded from the start of all of this. I’ve been talking to all my doctors to see if there is any way to save my remaining lymph nodes, rather than having them all removed as is planned. My concern is lymphedema, a irreversible swelling that results when those lymph nodes aren’t there to keep fluids moving. It seems like my body is facing this with only two lymph nodes gone.

My doc was out of town, and her fill-in was not in the office for the day, so I haven’t been able to see a doctor about it yet. I do now have a compression glove and sleeve that I wear to help keep the fluids moving, and I am doing lots of praying. Praying that the Lord will help the remaining lymph nodes to work, and that this beginning of swelling will also be the end of swelling.

I have often thought of the how Job said that what he feared had come upon him... someone once challenged me to not live with fear, but to turn my fears into godly desires. So, that’s what I’m doing. I don’t know if it’s exactly a godly desire to not want to live the rest of my life with lymphedema, or if it’s just wimpiness! Nevertheless, I am pleading with the Lord to intervene in this situation... but I’m realizing that deeper than all of that is my desire that He be glorified through my life. I trust Him. I don’t know how this all fits into his good plan, but I also know that Eternal Eyes have a much better perspective on it than mine.

It was so joyous to be in church today. I love my church! The dear friends there have been so kind to us long before my cancer diagnosis, and this has only proven what true gold they are. I love my church most of all because when I walk in there, I sense the Spirit of God, moving and living in that congregation. May we all live that fully on the days in between Sunday!

I’m off to bed again.. that middle of the night feeding comes too soon! I think it’s time for Caleb to start sleeping through the night. :) By the way, Caleb is the best little baby ever, and he is starting to smile! His cheeks are intensely kissable, and you can’t stop once you start! He also has the cutest little fat thighs in the world! What a blessed Mommy I am!

Dreaming of Home

Thu, 30 Jul 2009 03:49:22 -0400

Hello, everyone! We’re still in Anchorage, and I wanted to jump on for a quick note to update everyone. Over the weekend and in to this week I’ve had some low days, lots of weariness and napping on the couch. Oh what a blessing to have the supporters here that I do! I couldn’t do this without Nathan, Mom, and Danielle!

One piece of glorious news is that when I went for my blood draw yesterday, MY CATHETER WORKED! It drew blood! It’s a miracle to me! I can’t tell you how elated I was. I CAN tell you that I’ve never been so delighted to see blood flowing out of my body! :)

After a weary weekend, I ended up with a migraine yesterday and some painful side effects to the chemo that had me in to the docs today and on some extra medications to hold it at bay. It’s a bit frustrating, I feel like I’ve accomplished just about nothing over the last five days.

These things have also kept us here in Anchorage, and we still haven’t booked tickets home. If the Lord allows, we may possibly try to get tickets for Saturday, but we’re going to see how everyone is in the morning.

We’ve got a LOT of loose ends to tie up here to be able to leave, and we would be grateful for your prayers that I stay well and that the details come together. My heart is longing for home, and yet a little scared at the process of getting there.

Please pray for Nathan, Dani, and Mom too. They’re carrying so much of my load, and I’m just praying that they will be blessed and refreshed.

I’ve got to run... sleep calls! Just wanted you dear folks who are checking in to know how we are. May you all be blessed, and may we all remember that those deepest longings are just a reminder we weren’t made for here... heaven is our true home.

Mixing life and cancer

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 04:28:50 -0400

It’s a weird sort of “normal” we’re entering in to here! It seems that at least a piece of each day is spent with me at doctor’s appointments, Mom and Dani are doing so much to hold down the fort at Miss Sue’s house... and Nathan is my hand to hold during shots, and anything thing that might hurt the heart more than the body.

We enjoyed the chance to get out and about a bit as my white cells reached the safe zone again (Hurray!). We made a trip to the Portage Glacier visitor center, it was a foggy, blustery day, but the clouds parted at times to give us some lovely vistas.

We’ve had fun enjoying the 50 cent ice cream cones at McDonald’s... they’ve become a signature of our time here, it seems! They are running the special because it’s the summer of our 50th year of statehood. Little bits of normalcy are a relief! And there isn’t much in the way of yummy soft serve in Nome!

My groshong catheter is still causing problems, but gratefully it is still flushing the chemo through well. Thank you so much for praying... I woke up this morning to find blood in the line. They had told me this could happen, but it took me by surprise because it did not draw blood at the doctor’s yesterday. Somehow something opened up to allow that, and it made me feel hopeful! I have saline to flush the line with if that ever happens, so all is fine. I’m not sure what caused it, maybe God was just letting me know He wasn’t done with the process!

I had no reactions to the chemo this time around, and that is a super answer to prayer! It brings us a step closer to returning to Nome. There is an awkward element to mixing sometimes painful procedures, long hours at the hospital, and then returning to life here at Miss Sue’s house and the little ones. But we’re making it through, and it is so good to be here all together. (

My hair has begun to fall out with a vengeance, and it’s honestly driving me nuts! I’m tempted to just do a total shave, but I’m following advice to wait until it’s really bad, just incase it doesn’t all fall out. So I’m waiting awhile longer, and wearing lots of head scarves to try to reduce the hair that is showing up everywhere!

Today, we met with a photographer who captured the first professional pictures we’ve ever had done as a family. There was a bittersweet element to it. We loved the pics, and the children were terrific. There was also a “what if” effect that kept making me want to cry... what if this is our only family picture ever? I am grateful for the peace of God that passes all understanding, that when dark thoughts tried to slip in, that peace stood guard over my heart. I do have hope that He is hearing our prayers, and we will take family pictures again someday.

I had a shot today to help my blood counts boost... it’s called neulasta. We’re praying that I don’t get hit too hard with the side effect of intense bone pain as the body responds to it’s call to produce cells. Some people do okay with just some achiness, other’s end up in ER due to the pain. We’re all praying that it doesn’t hit too hard, and are kind of waiting here now to see how I do. We still haven’t made tickets back to Nome, mainly because we need to make sure I’m doing okay with all of this first.

I’m finding my heart very comforted by the thought of SAFETY. Images of the holocaust, Rwanda, and the persecuted church around the world have been in my mind, and it fills me with gratitude for my life. We are so safe! I don’t fear for my children’s lives, I’m surrounded by loved ones, we have comfort and provision for the things we need. Yes, there is a medical difficulty we are facing, but I am humbled by the realization of where others have walked nobly with much greater distress to their souls. Safety is truly a gift of God, and I am finding myself daily grateful for it.

Our favorite bed time song with the children is an old one Nathan taught me before Noah was even born. It was the first song I sang to Caleb in NICU, and is usually the song that closes out our day as we tuck the little ones in bed,

Safe am I, Safe am I
in the hollow of His hand.
Sheltered o’er, sheltered o’er
in His love forever more.
No ill can harm me, no foe alarm me,
for He keeps both day and night.
Safe am I, Safe am I
in the hollow of His hand.

Truly my God does keep us, even in the night. With Caleb’s late night feeding, I often find heavy thoughts and tears lingering close in those wee hours. There are times I have literally called His Name aloud in the night, “Jesus, these thoughts are too dark and I am too weak, please hold me!” And He mercifully does, and sleep returns and I awaken in the morning with joy. The Lord IS near to all those who call on Him... perhaps not with an escape plan, but with the grace to walk the next bit of the path.

My very frustrating groshong catheter

Tue, 21 Jul 2009 04:01:47 -0400

I hope you don’t mind the diagram, but I thought it might help with the understanding of the catheter and the problem I’m having with it. My body is covering the part that lies near my heart with a protective coating or sheath. As a result, it won’t draw blood, and there is the possibility of further risks and trouble. Tomorrow I head back for a blood draw, and I am praying that somehow that sheath would dissolve and this very necessary catheter would start working. I would be so grateful if you would pray with us! It’s going to take a miracle!

There isn’t a lot of new news here... I am pretty much lying low because my white blood cells are also low. We’re starting to talk through the logistics of returning to Nome. To all of you in Nome, I can hardly wait to get back to that dear dusty town and all of you who make it so precious! Thank you for your words of encouragement to Nathan while he was back over the last week and a half... You are the most amazing community ever!

My hair is starting to fall out in massive handfuls. It’s sort of sad to see it go, and now comes the wondering of when to actually take the plunge and shave it. Some people have cautioned me not to shave it too soon because sometimes it just thins considerably and doesn’t all fall out. So I’m waiting, but it’s really annoying. We were trying to find hairnets for me to wear to bed, but to no avail. Mom finally found a creative alternative. It’s a wave cap... sort of like a thick nylon that according to the package, my African-American brothers use to help make their fro more wavy. Cool! Nathan has always told me he thought I was beautiful, and I love him for it. But in this cap... stunning is the only word that comes to mind! :)

Wesley learned how to say please yesterday, Kate is regressing on her potty training, Noah is living and breathing baseball since Poppi taught him to play catch, and Shaina loves rubbing Caleb’s back during his little tummy time. So that’s the latest from Hobbitsville... thanks to all of you who are praying for us!

Nathan just walked past and I asked if there is anything he wanted to say to the friends reading our blog. He tossed a little card onto my lap, it’s wrinkled a bit from being carried in his pocket, but the truth printed on it is flawless. “God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” -2 Cor. 9:8 This is what he is praying, for us and for you, the dear ones who are holding us up when at times we feel too weak or weary to do it ourselves. Our hearts are strengthened, may yours be as well, in the trials you are facing.

Rara Avis

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 03:18:51 -0400

I was telling my surgeon, Dr. Whitcomb, that my new middle name is something like... “On rare occasions....” She laughed and told me about Rara Avis. I guess it is latin for rare bird. Well, I like it, and it seems to fit! Every time someone says to me that something could happen on a rare occasion, I know it’s going to happen to me. Like the herceptin reaction that only happens on rare occasions. And now, my groshong catheter is turning me once again into Rara Avis.

The told me that on “rare occasions” the body can form a sheath around the catheter as it floats in my blood stream. That happens only rarely, and usually after the groshong has been in place for a while. With me, it only took a week.

From the outside, the lovely clear tube protruding from my chest looks a bit sci-fi, but otherwise harmless. On the inside, it swims in the largest blood passageway just outside my heart, so that when they attach it to the chemo drip, it is quickly diluted by my blood flow. It also is an easy way to pull out blood for the draws I am needing to track my health.

But it seems that my body saw that groshong as a foreign body, which it is, and started about building a sheath around it in self defense. Gratefully, the chemo is still able to get in, the fluid pushes past the sheath and can distribute into the blood. But when the nurses draw back the syringe to try to take blood from the line, the suction pulls the sheath against the opening, sealing it shut. End result is LOTS of hassle, more pricks, and the risk of the sheath closing entirely.

That is a danger because then the chemo wouldn’t make it into my blood. It would back up the sheath, out of the vessel, and spill into the tissue of my chest. That would be a BIG bummer. So, I am instructed to be very attentive if I ever feel anything when that chemo is dripping in. If it leaks into the chest, it will destroy tissue, and we’ll be in trouble.

It surely makes me feel nervous about chemo time! I am asking the Lord to break that sheath down, to let my body just dissolve it away from the opening so that it would start drawing blood again. Would you pray for that with me? I know that it isn’t impossible for the Lord!

I do feel like it is weighing on me... concern about what will happen each time I have chemo. Then I’m concerned about my hand, it’s swollen and sore on the side of my sentinel node biopsy. Dr. Whitcomb measured my arm to see if it was swelling as well, a sign of lymphedema, and it doesn’t seem to be. Still, looking at my swollen hand all day makes me nervous, and I’m not a very nervous sort of person! Then there are my white blood cells that dipped low, and are rising slowly but surely. Still, I can’t go out in public without a mask, and I’m supposed to be avoiding public places. So many stores and I can’t even go shopping! Today, I had a rather painful procedure to place metal markers around the tumor so we can see the size and if it is shrinking.

So all these things add to the weight that seems to be settling around me over the last few days, the sort of weight that makes you want to cry when you climb into bed at night, even though you’re not sure why. Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot of joy in my life too, I’m surrounded by it! But the flavor is tinged enough to have become decidedly DARK chocolate. You know, that bittersweet, “why would anyone want to eat this” sort of flavor. :) I don’t like dark, give me the easy sweetness of milk chocolate any time!

Tonight, I read a little more to the children out of “Hind’s Feet on High Places.” I found it in a children’s version, and we have been reading it at bedtime. If you’re not familiar with it, it is the beautiful allegory of a girl named Much-Afraid. She is crippled and unloved, but the Shepherd (the picture of Christ in this story) invites her to the high places. It’s a journey out of the Valley of Humiliation in to the Kindom of Love at the top of the distant mountains. He promises that if she will make the journey, that He will make her feet like Hind’s feet, able to leap on the mountains that once had stood in her way.

So she begins her journey, and tonight we read the chapter that made me want to share it with the children in the first place. At the foot of the mountain Much-Afraid meets the companions that Shepherd has chosen for her, the ones that He knows can best lead her to the heights. They are strong and foreboding, and their names are Sorrow and Suffering.

With tears, Much-Afraid begs the Shepherd for Joy and Peace to lead her up the mountains! But He asks if she truly trusts Him, and if she will take the hands of those He has chosen as her best companions in the way. She does trust Him, and achingly begins the journey with Sorrow and Suffering. At first she stumbles on in her own strength, loathing to take their hands. But then, as the way grows steeper, she must reach out and embrace her companions. Their touch is painful to her, but she also finds that places that seemed impossible are suddenly behind her as they lift her higher.

I think that I am in the place of needing to humbly reach out and embrace these companions of mine on this path in my life. I too wish they could be Joy and Peace, but it seems that my Shepherd has seen fit to let Sorrow and Suffering journey with me just now. It’s one thing to walk along together, and an entirely different matter to reach out and take their hands.

But I do trust my Shepherd, and I believe that these companions come with great purpose. So, as I know so many of you are praying, will you pray that I will have a courageous heart, and that I will not miss the lessons He is wanting me to learn here? I am determined, by His grace, to take their hands.

It may sound kind of noble, but I know how much-afraid my heart can be at times! I know the end of the book, however, and how well it all turns out. And I also know that to reach the beautiful ending, you have to read the chapters in between that are full of difficulty. In life, you can’t just flip to the last chapter. So, tonight, I’m peering through the fog, the last chapters aren’t yet in sight, and I’m holding on to the hands of my companions and teachers, trusting the One who sent them.

Wigs, Anyone?

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 04:23:42 -0400

Warning: I have nothing profound to say... just figured I’d take a few minutes to chat at every one and update you on life. :) I’m sitting in an armchair at Miss Sue’s house, being laughed at by my sister... and laughing at her in return. Truly laughter is good medicine. If you all haven’t checked out her blog at www.theinvisiblereality.blogspot.com, you really should. She’ll make you laugh too! She’s so graciously offered to stay with Nathan, the children, and I as long as we need her. How blessed we are!

At this point in life, humor is essential. We tried on some wigs this evening, and tomorrow I have an appointment at the hospital for a wig fitting. It seems that my current head of hair is planning it’s exit! I don’t think it will happen immediately, but I am starting to loose it... not in chunks yet, but it’s definitely thinning. It’s a weird feeling, and I’m not exactly convinced that I’ll be cute bald, but I don’t think I’m grieving it too much. First of all, I’m pretty well convinced it will grow back. Secondly, I’ve heard it comes back different sometimes, and after a lifetime of brown and straight I’m putting in an order for red curls. Thirdly, the wig magazine I was checking out says, “Wigs always look good, and require almost no effort. There are no more bad hair days!” As a Mommy of small folks who’s had her share of bad hair days, that sounds like fun. :) Besides, I like hats and scarves!

I met with my oncologist today, and overall I felt pretty encouraged. So many people have been asking me what stage my cancer is, and I asked him about that. They had been waiting to get all of my tests back before it could actually be staged. He told me today that it is stage three, and I had previously been told it is also grade three. I know that isn’t very good, but I also know that God is able to handle whatever it is that this cancer is throwing at me.

I haven’t asked for any statistics as far as survival rate, etc. I don’t think I want to know! I guess that for me it is a personal journey that the Lord is leading me through. I feel that percentages have little to do with my chance of living through this. I guess I’ll lean on the mercy of God and the prayers of my friends and family more than numbers of what has happened to others. The very exciting news that we received today is that as long as I tolerate tomorrow’s herceptin treatment well, and the following week’s full chemo dose, we will be able to go home to Nome! I will still have to come to Anchorage for each of my chemo treatments, but that should only be for two or three days out of every three weeks. I am so grateful and thrilled at the thought! We’re not sure what all of the weeks ahead will hold, but after my treatment on the 22nd, we’ll be looking to head back. I know that we’ll still have more doctor’s visits, etc. so I’m not exactly sure when.

Our time here at Miss Sue’s house has been so blessed. Over the weekend when my cells were really low, I was able to just get a lot of rest, sometimes just sitting outside in the sun, surrounded by trees. This morning I felt strong enough to walk with my Mom, and we were just surrounded by beauty and wildflowers everywhere. The wildflowers in Alaska are amazing!

Miss Sue (as the children call her) has been gone for the week visiting family, and we were expecting her home soon. Mom talked to her this morning and found her at the airport, not headed to Alaska, but to be with her daughter’s family in the lower 48. It seems her daughter is very sick, she’s contracted meningitis, but they aren’t sure exactly what kind. She is in the hospital, and they’re treating it heavily until they know for sure, and Miss Sue is going to help care for the children. Her daughter’s name is Angie, and I know that they would all be so grateful for your prayers as well. Sue has so blessed us with selflessly opening her home to us, and our hearts have been so burdened for her today.

Well, it’s late, and I hear a little man squaking for his mommy upstairs. What a joy it is to see little Caleb’s thin cheeks filling out, and to see the children just delighting in him. Whenever Wesley sees him, he starts desperately signing “please.” It’s his way of asking you to put the baby down close to him, where he usually says in a very well pleased tone, “Baby.” Okay, so it’s lots cuter in reality than in type, but trust me, it’s cute!

Thanks for reading my ramblings, and for caring enough about our family to share in this process with us. The love and support of strangers and friends alike have been a life line for us. Thank you!

Great Purpose

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 06:37:53 -0400

Well, it’s almost 3 AM, and I just finished feeding wee Caleb. What a good little man he is! He downed his 2 oz. without a problem, and burped nicely. What more could a mommy want? :) At his doctor’s visit today she declared him healthy in every regard, and not only that... HE GAINED 4oz. IN FOUR DAYS! That’s terrific!

On Wednesday I was robbed of my smile, and I am missing it sorely. Just that morning I had an appointment with my surgeon, and her receptionist had told me that I had a wonderful smile. Just a few hours later I was standing at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription and I was pouring on the “wonderful smile” and the guy just wouldn’t smile back. I was purposely trying to make sure my eyes were sparkling. He never even thought of returning it. I guess I’m pretty used to having someone smile back at me, because his lack of response was really bumming me out! Okay, so he couldn’t see me smile because I was wearing mask... but I was sincerely trying to make my eyes look friendly. I know that he was thinking “germaphobe!”

They’ve had outbreaks of swine flu here in Anchorage, and on the news in some doctor’s office I heard them say, “If you are uncomfortable, wear a mask.” And I wondered what kind of crazy person actually does that. I am sure he thought I was just that kind of crazy person.

I had to wear a mask again to Caleb’s well visit, and had called ahead to make sure that I wouldn’t have to be in the waiting room. They kindly ushered us through to a disinfected room, and even let us leave through a back door. It was there that I lamented not being able to smile at people through my mask (you know... trying to convince them I am NOT a weird germ-obsessed person who is simply wearing a mask due to swine flu) and the nurse suggested I draw a smile on the outside of my mask. I love the idea! Now everyone will smile back! :)

The whole fuss about the mask is because when I went in for my blood draw this week, we found out that my white cells are really low. Low enough that they asked me not to go into public at all if possible for the next little while. With this being my first round of chemo, it is a bit unusual for it to dip so severely, and as a result I will be getting a nuelasta shot now after every chemo treatment. It is a shot given 24 hours after your chemo and it helps to raise your white blood cell levels. They don’t usually give it with the chemo regimen that I am on, but I guess my numbers were low enough to warrant some special treatment... and a mask!

So, I’m not going out in public (except for Caleb’s first check up, I couldn’t miss that!), and we’re washing everything like crazy, and trusting the Lord to keep my body safe from infection. I was surprised to learn at this place, I wouldn’t even really run a fever, because it is your white blood cells that create fever when your body is fighting infection, and I don’t have any to fight! Hopefully in the next week my body will start to produce them again, it’s just a little touchy here in the middle spot between treatments.

In the midst of this, I have found great blessing in a quote sent to me by my dear Aunt Norma. She is one of the loveliest followers of Jesus I have ever had the privilege of knowing, and her beauty has not been developed on easy roads. She sent to Nathan and I this quote and told us that it has held her and Uncle Dave in difficult places, and I can see why. It is by Alan Redpath,

"There is nothing - no circumstance, no trouble, no testing -- that can ever touch me until, first of all, it has gone past God and past Christ, right through to me. If it has come that far, it has come with a GREAT PURPOSE, which I may not understand at the moment. But as I refuse to become panicky, as I lift up my eyes to Him and accept it as coming from the throne of God for some great purpose of blessing to my own heart, no sorrow will ever disturb me, no trial will ever disarm me, no circumstance will cause me to fret, for I shall rest in the joy of what my Lord is. That is the rest of victory."

Those words leapt out at me. Great Purpose. I can do this, by God’s grace, if indeed there is a purpose in it all. I can even wear these silly masks, I can take the pricks and pokes and blood draws, and separation from Nathan, and the decreased energy, and the shadows looming ahead if there is a purpose.

But I also know that I can’t demand to know the purpose, perhaps in my estimation it would not count as great. I hope it will become clear someday. Maybe in heaven. Until then, I DO believe that there is a great purpose here, perhaps it is simply to show those watching us that God is trustworthy, and good even when life is not. I guess that is the part about resting in the joy of what my Lord is.

So I’ll don my mask, and pencil in a smile, and hold on to those words. Great purpose.

Smiling through the tears

Wed, 8 Jul 2009 03:44:39 -0400

I’m crying less these days. I think I would be rich if I had some pennies for every time I’ve smiled through tears over the last months. Often the smile means God is giving us grace for yet another difficult thing, sometimes it just means I’m embarrassed to be crying again! It has been a month of tears for sure... the last two weeks found us crying in at Caleb’s side in NICU, with friends in the hospital cafeteria, and alone in a hospital bed with Nathan beside me on the pull out couch.

It seems that the last few days there have been many reasons to smile, no tears in the mix. On Monday Caleb was released from NICU, to our delight and surprise. They had removed his feeding tube on Sunday night, and he continued to be able to finish his bottles on his own. We had hoped for maybe the end of the week, and to have him join us so soon was definite cause for celebration. I think that more than anything I felt a sort of exhausted contentment... all of my little ones were together at last. (You can see some videos and pics at Caleb Clips and Photos.)

But I was exhausted. I am feeling some effects from the chemo... dizziness and I guess a general weariness most of all. Today was actually a better day than the last three, so I am really grateful. I sort of figured that every day would get worse than the one before it, but today I had a lot less dizzy, lightheaded moments.

People have wondered about my treatments, if I’m taking chemo every day, etc. I don’t know a lot about cancer and other treatments, but for my type of breast cancer, I am on a three week rotation. I get my chemo, and about ten days into it is when my lowest blood counts should be, the time when the body has been depleted by the chemo. After that it starts to build back up over the next ten days or so, until my next treatment. The effects of the chemo are cumulative, they will build up over time, so the lows will get lower, and the highs will be lower as well. I have six rounds, so we’re looking at eighteen weeks. From what I understand, it will take about three months after the end of my chemo before my body starts to strengthen again, and months beyond that as it tries to restore the damage of the chemo.

Hopefully, I can stay strong and as healthy as possible through this process, and I am trusting the Lord to carry us. I’m taking an arsenal of stuff through our naturopathic doctor’s recommendation that should help my body through the chemo rounds. The herceptin drug that I had that initial reaction to will continue to be taken for 12 months, and somewhere in the midst of it, after my 18 weeks of chemo, I’m supposed to have a mastectomy and then start radiation. That’s all just the doctor’s equation... we’re looking to Jesus each step of the way, assuming nothing and leaning hard.

But the tears are still there. We’re in this little routine of life at Miss Sue’s house, laughing with the children, delighting in the beauty around us, enjoying baby Caleb... but underneath it all there is this shadow called cancer, and even the happiest moments feel like smiling through tears.

One such moment was when the doorbell rang today. “Carlee! It looks like a special delivery! Go get the door!” Mom and Dani had just returned from a little bit of time away together for lunch when the doorbell rang and they peered out the front window. I went to the door wondering what they meant... had someone sent me flowers? The delivery guy had his back to me when the door opened, reading a slip of paper as if looking to see if the address was correct. When he turned around I started crying yet again. It was my Dad. They hadn’t told me he was coming, in fact their lunch outing had included picking him up from the airport! Some dear friends had even given him funds for the airfare when they heard that the Lord had been speaking to his heart that it was time to go to Alaska. It was easy to smile through those tears.

And there are tears that you just can’t smile through, like the email I got from a new friend, Julie. She heard the story of my cancer in a round about way, and has taken time to email me words of encouragement in the midst of their own grief. Their little girl Annie is just under two years old, she’s fighting a terrible cancer, and the last scans were not good. (Friends, when you pray for me, will you pray for this family as well?) Suddenly our pain feels so small, as I watch my healthy children play and think of the babies left behind in NICU.

I feel very void of answers tonight. I saw a lot of pain in my husband’s eyes today, and I don’t know how to fix it. I was snuggling Wesley in an almost normal moment until he pulled at my shirt and I saw the tube poking through my chest where the chemo dumps into my blood stream. In the moment there is joy and peace, but try to glimpse ahead and there is a tumultuous sea of uncertainty.

So I don’t know what to do, or what answers to give, but just to run to Jesus. In my heart I see Him like an oak tree, deep roots of a lifetime of finding Him trustworthy make me certain that I can nestle there and be safe from the storm. So I hunker down, safe in the arms of Jesus, and I’m smiling again.... through my tears.

“...To love the author of my own biography”

Fri, 3 Jul 2009 14:17:45 -0400

Not long after Welsey was born, I was intrigued by the lyrics of a Chris Rice song. It’s called “Nonny Nonny” which may not be the most amazing title, but there were some phrases that really captured me.

The second verse speaks of Aslan, the figure of Christ in the Chronicles of Narnia series which has been favorites of mine since childhood... He says,

“Cause every perfect now and then  I caught a glimpse of Aslan's mane And I longed for His treasure Something in His mystery was drawing me  To love the Author of my own biography”

That was more than a year ago, and the Lord began teaching me to love Him as the Author of my biography. I told Mom several nights ago how glad I was that I loved my life before I “lost” it. How sad it would be to suddenly realize that I had a beautiful life, but not have appreciated it!

Gratefully, I have not lost the dearest elements of my life, my sweet husband and children, but there have been losses this last month. I love my life in Nome! I love Brenda stopping by to visit, and leaning out the window to watch the children on their bikes. I love my green kitchen, small as it is, and the sparkle of the Bering Sea out my window. I love my church and my beautiful, diverse friends. I love walking to the post office with the children and knowing half of the people that I pass on the street! I love the glimpses we have of God at work in the Norton Sound region of Alaska, and getting to join Him in that work. Over the last year, I had fallen in love with a new facet of my Lord, as the One who has written such a beautiful biography for me!

But last month I turned a page and in a moment the whole book seemed altered, almost as if written by a different pen. Yesterday, my first day after chemo, I felt great! (Nate thinks it is the steroid shot they gave me!) I got up early, did some laundry, and got in a good workout in the room downstairs here at the Hickel House where Nathan and I are staying. I plugged in my ipod and hopped on the elliptical machine to a perky song and was just happy to be feeling so well.

A few songs later “Nonny Nonny” came on. In a moment, Jesus stepped in the room with me, and I was suddenly crying. I felt like He spoke to my heart, “Carlee, I have not given the pen to the enemy. I am still your Author. Can you love me for this chapter too?” He is still the Author of my biography, the One I loved for the chapters written before!

But I don’t like this chapter at all! Yet, I’ve read so many books in my life that have had such tragic chapters, but I stuck with them because I knew I liked the author, and things usually work out okay. I remember the first time I read Hamlet, I was shocked! I was in early high school, and had somehow missed the fact that Hamlet was a tragedy. Oops. I had just been reading Henry V, and figured I’d like anything by Shakespeare. I got to the last page of Hamlet and really freaked out. This is the end! They’re all dead! What kind of book is this? I still don’t like tragedies to this day! :)

The last verse of “Nonny Nonny” gives us the assurance the God is not the Author of tragedies, but sometimes we don’t get the whole picture here on earth.

“And soon He turns the final page We'll look the Author in the face Then the book really begins 'Cause something tells me all these years of memories Are only the first sentence of eternity.”

My heart leaps at those words, “We’ll look the Author in the face...” Yes! I can still love Him and this biography of mine, even though this chapter has been really hard to read. Because I trust the One behind it, and ultimately, I know that all of this is just the first sentence of eternity. When we have given our lives to Christ, there are no ultimate tragedies, it’s just that sometimes we have to wait till the other side to see the final chapters.

Praise the Lord!

Wed, 1 Jul 2009 22:04:24 -0400

Just a quick note to tell you all that I was able to take my entire first round of Herceptin and Chemo today. I was fairly well drugged for the first bit, but did NOT have the reaction and rigors of yesterday. Our hearts are rejoicing! Thank you to everyone who prayed! We’re off to see this children for just a little while and hoping to get in bed early... it’s been an exhausting two days. Just wanted everyone to know that God heard our prayers! I don’t think it’s normal to feel so exhilarated at the end of chemo, but after yesterday, this feels like a huge mountain conquered!

Down - but not out!

Wed, 1 Jul 2009 03:34:45 -0400

Greetings all, Nathan here. I’m typing for Carlee tonight as she is deep asleep in a drugged sort of way. She’s so tough.

Carlee was suppose to start chemo treatment yesterday but due to some great counsel and a red flag that we had from the Lord we had changed treatment plans to a plan that Carlee felt much clearer about (and so did I). Her treatment started sometime after 12:00 PM today and the nurse chose to give her the cancer drug that would take the longest for infusion first. It’s called Herceptin. This monoclonal antibodies drug specifically targets her type of cancer like a smart bomb. Tells the body to get rid of the particular cell that is mass reproducing. This was to be followed by Carboplatin and Taxotere which are both chemo.

A small percentage of patients have a reaction when first introduced to the drug. This is treated by stopping the dose for a half hour and starting up again. About 15 min. into the dose Carlee said she felt really weird and dizzy. Nurse stopped it for a few minuets and then started it again. I won’t go into all of the horrors of it for me but enough to say that moments later, Carlee had a pretty violent reaction to it. I thought I was staring death in the face. She started shaking violently all over from her jaw to her toes. Carlee usually likes to talk but for once I had to hold her mouth shut to prevent her from biting her swollen tongue.

It was a pretty horrific 15 to 20 min. before the counter measure drugs took affect which then introduced another set of issues we had to monitor for several hours. The drugs they gave her knocked her out and she has slept the rest of the day except for a short bit to eat and make a few phone calls. She had awful joint pain following the “rigors” but gratefully that didn’t last long as we cried out to the Lord for deliverance for her and the Lord answered quickly. Thank you, Jesus.

It’s so wonderful to see color back in her face and hands. Thank you all for your prayers. The nurse said it’s probable that her body will build the immunity necessary to endure this treatment but couldn’t promise that would happen by the next treatment. The Doctor called off further treatments for today, thankfully, but we are scheduled to start the treatment again tomorrow (Wed) at noon our time.

Please pray that God will spare her body from further reaction to this drug or any of the others. Sometimes I look at her and wonder how much more she can take but I also KNOW that God is with us and we “can do all things through Christ which strengthens us.”

I can’t tell you how much the verses and prayers have meant to us each day, sent by so many of you. They have many times been the prayers and verses quoted back to the Lord from our hearts when so often I can’t seem to find words and thoughts of my own to express to the Lord.

On a more exciting note... Caleb was released from his breathing tube yesterday! WOOOO HOOOOO ! ! ! He needs to learn to drink from his bottle now. He’s not quite getting the hang of it and tires before he’s getting it all down. So feeding tube stays in until he gets the sucking thing down. Mom Sobie kindly went over tonight for us and fed Caleb his evening bottle. I haven’t heard yet how that went but we’re hopeful and prayerful that he’ll be gaining weight and eating on his own soon. Thank you, Lord, for all the progress so far. It’s SO awesome to see his little face minus all the hoses and wires. WONDERFUL.

Love and Blessings to all,
Nate, the Carleeologist :-)

One week after birth, Caleb is back in my arms

Fri, 26 Jun 2009 15:35:25 -0400

It had been a long day. Nathan, Danielle, and I were sitting in an Indian restaurant that we found next to the clinic where we had been consulting with a naturopathic doctor (who won the prize for kindest doc we have met yet, which is saying a lot because the whole medical staff has been terrific.). We were really encouraged by the visit with him, his role is to help my body stay strong through the chemo treatments, and even help us with supplements that will help the chemo be more effective. He made the statement to us that he knew it was a lot of info and supplements that he was throwing at us, and that he used to start people on a slower more methodical approach to treating cancer. Then he said, “That was until my Mom got cancer, and my whole approach changed, I realized how I just wanted to beat this thing with everything available to me. So I know this is a lot of stuff, but I’m treating you as if you were my sister, it’s the only way I can do it now.” That was really comforting to me! ` So, after not much food all day due to the fasting before my pet scan, followed by a mad dash to the oncologists at another hospital, which made us late for the naturopath appointment, we were tired and hungry! We had ordered some amazing food, lots of veggies, curry, and this awesome yogurt dip, and I decided to call NICU while we waited. ` This has become part of our routine, because each day is so full of appointments and tests for me, we can call NICU at any time and ask for “baby Hobb’s nurse.” They are so kind to give us thorough updates. This call was the best of all. “I’m so glad you called! I have good news! Caleb has been weaned entirely off of the nitrix, and five minutes ago we removed his ventilator!” I handed Nathan the phone and just put my head down and cried. Just this morning I was trying to remember his sweet little face without the ventilator taped in place. “Please, Jesus, will you let it be soon that they can remove it?” And the Lord we merciful. ` He is also entirely off of the morphine, which meant that when we went to see him he was actively moving around, even yawning. He doesn’t like the feeding tube in his mouth, and I am praying that soon he can have that removed. The first day of his little life he had loved sucking on the pacifier, and even sucked on the ventilator tube at times. I think he’d love to get that tube out and enjoy a bottle! ` I feel like I have been learning a whole new definition of exhausted the last few days, and last night was the cherry on top. I could only hold him for a little over half of an hour before I started feeling light headed and weak. I think it’s a combination of the surgery drugs, so many missed meals due to having to fast before tests, and just the crazy schedule of the last week. ` Today our only exam is a Mugga heart scan at 2:30 this afternoon, so we were able to sleep in a bit, and I am so grateful for the rest that brought. I’ll be radioactive after the scan, so I won’t be able to see Caleb again until tomorrow, but hopefully this evening we’ll get some time with the four little hobbits across town. They’re doing well, but missing us as we are missing them. ` My promise from the Lord for today was in Psalm 56:13 “For You have delivered my soul from death.
Have You not kept my feet from falling,
That I may walk before God
In the light of the living?”

Why Mommies shouldn’t do drugs!

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 03:38:51 -0400

I’m currently reclining in a soft chair in our room at the Hickel House, I’m slightly dizzy, I have a crazy bad headache, and my torso is throbbing slightly. It should pass soon, though, because I just took my next dose of whatever mighty pill this is that takes me to a happy place. :) My surgery was at 7:30 AM and took about two hours. The Lord blessed the hands of the surgeon, and my groshan catheter slipped in on the first try. They did find cancer in the sentinel node, and are testing the other lymph nodes to see if it has passed further. This is going to be a short post, because I’m pretty exhausted, but I just want to thank everyone who has been praying for us. Caleb is doing so much better, and the Lord gave us great peace as we went through this surgery process. I’ll try to write more tomorrow, just wanted everyone to know that we are feeling the Lord’s nearness, and I am so blessed by having Mom and Nathan by my side through this day. I hope you enjoy the pics of our sweet little man, his face is a little swollen from the fluids, but he’s just the cutest thing ever. How blessed I am! Please keep praying!

Holding all things loosely

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 03:36:44 -0400

Sunday night, Nathan and I faced the realization that we had to change our focus from wee Caleb in NICU to the collection of tests and doctor’s visits waiting us this week, plus the surgery for my lymph node test and installing the groshan catheter for my chemo on Wednesday. It was a really overwhelming time, I just wanted to forget that I had cancer and pretend the only issue was that sweet baby in his little struggle for life over at ICU. ` But we couldn’t, so the night ended with us tearfully lifting it all up to the Lord, very overwhelmed and exhausted, we kind of cried and prayed ourselves to sleep, not even remembering to change out of our clothing! (I awoke a few hours later with all the lights on and decided it was too late to worry about pj’s) ` So Monday dawned, the day I had dreaded, and I awoke to find that mercy and grace had made a room visit, and that joy truly does come in the morning. I know people must have been praying, we were so carried through such a long day! We headed to NICU before the shift change at 7 AM, and to our delight found that Caleb is beginning to be weaned off of oxygen! Praise the Lord! The nurses said it had been a very good night, and he was resting so peacefully, not fighting the ventilator at all. What sunshine that news shed on our day! ` We got ready for the day of tests, and Nathaniel played a song that my brother Scott had recorded a long time ago, his english translation of one of the songs they sing in Ukraine. The words were amazing for where we are at, and the sound of my big brother’s voice (even though he had a cold when he recorded it!) was really comforting. The words stayed with me all day, “In the shadow of Your wings I will hide, and there I’ll find Your peace and safety.” If you’d like to hear it, I’ve linked to it here... ` The morning went so well, and Nathan and I really just enjoyed each other’s company as we trekked from office to office for tests, etc. He’s just the best, keeps my smiling as we face all of these new things! What a blessing to be his wife! ` The best news of the day came when I called NICU around lunch time. Caleb’s oxygen had been at 100% yesterday, but by noon he was down to 60% and holding his own. Praise the Lord! What a huge step in the right direction! Then came the cherry on top... the nurse said that it would be safe for me to hold him this evening! I burst into tears right there in radiology! She said it will have to be for about 90 minutes though, it would be too much to move him for just a little while. I couldn’t have been more delighted, this was better than Christmas! ` But I learned again a lesson I thought I had been mastering: Hold all things loosely. A few hours later as I was injected with radioactive material for a bone scan, I was told that I needed to stay away from Caleb for 24 hours.... just about when I get the next radioactive injection for my Wednesday morning surgery. ` It felt like a punch in the gut! It is so easy to put hope in such a little thing like an evening of holding that little man. But even in the midst of that aching that I just can’t describe, I felt the Lord speaking to my heart. You know, we have a choice at times about what scars us. We can choose to acknowledge the Lord as good, or we can choose to nurse our wounds and listen to the dissenting whispers of the enemy. I could just sense the Lord speaking to my heart that He was offering me grace if I would trust Him even when this precious gift was being taken from me. ` And HE was right. Another thing to hold loosely, another place to trust, and another outpouring of grace. It’s not that I am not grieving the loss of this evening with Caleb, but I am looking with joy to the hope of many evenings ahead when I can hold him as long as my heart desires. I don’t know what it will take to get there, but I am hopeful that such a time is coming. To those of you who prayed for me today, Thank you! I think you were part of this not being as devastating as the enemy wanted to make it. ` So, we spent a special evening with the children and my Mom and Sister, and now tomorrow is upon us. More doctor visits, another scan and injection... And a step further into this journey. It’s been a rugged climb so far, but there have been some really special views along the way as well. THe best view of all will be Caleb’s face with no tubes, no ventilator, just a soft cheek that I’m actually allowed to kiss!

Good news at last!

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 20:02:22 -0400

At last, Noah, Shaina, and Kate have met their little brother! Shaina talked to him in such a high pitched and gentle little voice! They couldn’t touch him, but at least they have seen him. In the usual resilience of childhood, they didn’t seem too bothered by the tubes and lines all around him. This is going to be a short post, as Monday is a big day for us and I need to get to bed. But I had to tell you all that at last, we have had good news! After two days of regressing, Caleb finally has made a bit of progress and his left lung has cleared a little. He is still on the ventilator, but they have found another drug that when added to the morphine keeps him more still and less combative. It’s made for a more restful day for him, and we are grateful for even a little bit of good news. I’m feeling pretty overwhelmed with heading into tomorrow, and praying that the Lord directs us through those test. I think I’m due for four of them tomorrow! Bless you all for praying, we’ll keep in touch!

One wee little Man

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 01:44:33 -0400

In Ruth 2:12, Boaz speaks this way to Ruth about the Lord, “… the LORD God of Israel, under whose wings you have come for refuge.” That was the verse that the same Lord spoke to Nathan this morning, and we have been huddled tearfully yet safely under those very wings all day. I slipped in early this morning to find out that Caleb had passed a difficult night. His oxygen was at 30 when we left last night, and he had been upped to 60 just to keep him at the right place. He was trembling and irritable, his little cry just breaks a Mommy’s heart. It was a long day of bad news, with one little ray of sunshine. His struggle could have had two causes, congenitive heart problems or underdeveloped lungs. The good news is that the heart problems were ruled out, and the lungs are the issue. He has had a day of many struggles and really no significant victories. Just about an hour ago I left his side so that they could install a ventilator, a step we had hoped we wouldn’t have to take. Before I left him the nurse let me change his diaper, and it was the sweetest diaper change of my life. They told me he hates having it done, but he just rested sweetly while I changed him, and I just delighted in what I think is the cutest little bum I’ve ever seen! It’s so hard to walk away! Though they had welcomed me to stay, they also warned that it wasn’t going to be an easy process to see, and figured it would be wiser to pray elsewhere. What a blessing to know that he is resting in the refuge of those same wings. They have had to go through his umbilical cord because every vein on his little body has been tapped out… they actually have an IV in through a vein on his head now. His little body is doing a lot of trembling and shaking and they aren’t exactly sure why, it just seems to be his response to the distress. He is on a morphine drip because such a long night and then day of tests and pokes and prods have just left him with no reserves. One sweet thing to me was when I came in during his heart ultrasound. He was crying out and fighting with his fists against the process. The NICU staff is so good about letting me just join in to whatever is going on, encouraging us to be close and talking to him, unless the procedure is going to be really difficult to see. So I stepped close and reached through a hole in the crowd around him to let him squeeze my finger. At the sound of my voice he immediately lay quietly and didn’t whimper or fuss again. Isn’t God good to let those wee ones hear their Mommy’s voice in the womb so that it can give them comfort even in their earliest days! It felt for just a minute like I was doing something to help, and that was so reviving to my heart. The word given to us is that he is in a dangerous place. It could easily turn for better or worse. He’ll be there at least a week due to the antibiotics, and it could be a month or more according to them. Jesus knows, and we’re laying that at His feet. In the midst of it all, we’re still talking and working on my cancer situation. Monday through Wednesday are full of tests and meetings. I feel so divided! I want to be with my children who are staying at a wonderful place across town. As they left my hospital room last night, Kate realized I wasn’t coming and stopped in the doorway. “But Mommy! I want to keep you!” Oh, how I want to keep them too! And then I want to be in NICU constantly, somehow hoping that my presence would bring comfort to a wee fellow who has had a really rough start to his first two days on earth. After that, I want to fight this cancer and learn all I can and be proactive about treatments. But it seems that I’m fairly unable to do any of these things well, so instead I just keep running in my heart to those wings of refuge, and hiding there, trusting in the One who has led my life so well thus far. I know He can continue to navigate it best, and I trust Him to do it.

There are some boo boos you can’t heal with a kiss

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 21:50:31 -0400

At our house, if you get a boo boo there is always someone nearby to kiss and fix it! I love that part of being a Mommy... there is such power in a bandaid! Recently, if I have a boo boo, the children have started kissing me, or offering me bandaids, and there is such a sweetness in that. I woke up this morning with a boo boo that wasn’t kissable, and it has been aching all day. That was the realization that my plan for a sweet weekend with my family has been superseded by Caleb needing to be in NICU due to underdeveloped lungs. They have told us his stay could be days or even a month or more, depending on how he responds. They’ve been doing treatments and trying to help him out, careful to inform us of everything. There is a definite pain you can’t fix when someone tells you, “I don’t think you would want to be there for this procedure.” It’s hard to think of your baby crying out and Mommy is far away. Please pray for us as we walk through this new valley, it has truly been exhausting both physically and emotionally. Oh, I can not fathom what it would be to face this without having the Lord to call out to, knowing that His ear is turned towards us! I want to say so much more, but I need to go check on a wee little man in a warm little box... it’s been a while since he heard Mommy’s voice.

It’s not quite the ritz Carlton....

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 03:54:09 -0400

... or even Red Roof Inn, but Nathan and I are just hanging out together at Providence Hospital tonight. It has just hit midnight, so today is officially the day that baby #5 will make his appearance with the help of the Lord and some kind medical staff.

I’m feeling pretty wimpy about it all at the moment. We had the test of the amniotic fluid today and it seems to have used up my current store of bravery! It was intensely painful, and we ran into complications when the baby moved the umbilical cord against the needle. It punctured the cord, drawing out cord blood that began to stream into the amniotic fluid and rendered the test ineffective.

They took me to prenatal triage for a while, and everything seems fine... baby’s heart beat is strong! After a concensus with the medical staff, we’ve agreed that even though we can’t officially confirm the lung growth on the baby, we’re sort of out of time and options, and baby looks big and healthy, so we’re proceeding with a labor induction around 8 or 9 AM tomorrow.

So, we’re going to try to sleep here a bit, and praying that labor will begin quickly and that I won’t need a lot of pitocin for the process. Also, for those of you who have been praying with us for a name for wee hobbit, I think the Lord has heard our prayer and indeed given us a name! You’ll just have to keep tuned in for that! :)

I think we’re both feeling a little fragile tonight, yet still very held by the promises of the Lord, and very grateful as we recount to those around us His faithfulness. My sister Oksana in Ukraine sent a verse to my Mom that has been so encouraging to me. It’s from Malachi 4:2,

But to you who fear My name
The Sun of Righteousness shall arise
With healing in His wings;

What a promise! It holds to me all the hope and potential of a sunrise, the lifting that you feel when the gray is swept away and the sun suddenly breaks through! Living in a land where we see so little of the sun for months has just made it that much more precious to me.

I’m wishing I was nearer my little folks just now, but so grateful that they are safely asleep accross town under the watchful care of Aunt Dani and Mimi, my Mom who finally arrived on the plane this afternoon. So I rest and wait and look for the rising of the sun tomorrow, and the blessing that I know will be there, because when you are a child of God, every day is blessed.

A Namesake

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 04:11:43 -0400

“Wesley Hobbs Joanne!” Kate was yelling in exasperation at her little brother who had just made some sort of mess out of something. I had to laugh. Kate is learning to call people by their full name to add emphasis, and that is a VERY official thing for an almost-three-year-old to do. The only problem is that she puts the middle name last, and it is always her own. :)

We celebrated sweet Kate’s third birthday exactly two weeks early, because her actual birthday will be the day after my surgery for the lymph node biopsy. Katherine Joanne Hobbs was born June 26, 2006. It was only a few short months after Nathaniel’s Mother, Joann Katherine Hobbs had made her crossing into eternity and all the glory that awaited her there.

What an honor it is for her to share her Mammaw’s name! We have often commented to each other, “Wouldn’t Mamma just love Kate?” She is so many things that Mamma was, gentle, cheerful, easily delighted, compassionate, orderly, and the lover of a good joke. I love the picture of us from the hospital, all gathered around my Mom’s cell phone as we called Nathan’s Dad to tell him that we had named her after Mamma. We cried, and prayed that the Lord would give her a double portion of her Grandmother’s spirit.

I cried again on her “early” birthday this year. I couldn’t help but tear up as I thanked Jesus for letting me share this day with her, and asked Him to hold us through the next two weeks that would lead to her true birthday. The word cancer has done an amazing job of teaching me to rejoice in the little milestones of life, and to revel in the fact that I am able to be a part.

Kate has such a name to live up to, and I think she’s doing a good job already. As a follower of Christ, I am His namesake, a Christian. I hope that just as I see Mamma in my little girl, that those around us will see Christ in us as we walk through this new valley.

Current Favorite Pic

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 15:22:08 -0400

Hi, everyone! I just had to put this picture in... I LOVE IT! This was on Memorial Day when Nathan, Danielle, and I took the children out to our friends cabin. Our ice hadn’t moved all the way out, it was lots of icebergs floating close to the shore. So, Dani the photographer was snapping shots while her and Nathan were ice jumping. We played around with the colors a bit to warm it up. :) I am just so blessed that the Lord is letting me walk through the mountains and valleys of life with Nate! We’re headed towards our eighth anniversary this fall, and I feel like I am only starting to understand the depth of who he is. It’s a great journey!

Let my words be few

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 03:06:47 -0400

Nathan, Dani, and I were just enjoying those sacred moments when the children are tucked in bed at last... Perhaps the most exhausted yet peaceful moments of the day. With the exception of Kate getting up to tell us something was on the wall, and Wesley pulling down the window shade in the bedroom with shouts of glee, all was peaceful. :) We started talking about something I’ve been reflecting on today.

How to do you keep from sounding hollow? It feels like right now I am saying a lot of words. A lot of phrases that started as fresh are starting to sound like something I am saying too often. How many times have I told someone, “I know that God is just as good now that I have cancer as He was before.”

When I say, “I have always trusted God with my life, and in that way, nothing has changed.” I am trying to state to them the condition of my spirit. But to myself I am starting to sound a little like a broken record. At what point do words become living?

It seems that there is a comfort to those around me in seeing and knowing that I am okay. Twice in the last two days I’ve been told, “I just needed to see you, to see if you really are okay.” I guess the fact that I’m still smiling and laughing and enjoying life is important. Is that what it means to live out trust in a hard place? But it takes no effort! It’s just genuinely being how I feel... covered in the cloak of a knowing God... like when you’re a little girl and you put on Daddy’s coat and it is so big it just swallows you in coziness. Mostly, my heart is there.

So today I wondered how I can keep my words from really being hollow and redundant. How do you live the words that you really mean? It makes me wonder what is ahead. I guess I want to be a person who says less and lives more. I don’t want to speak what is false, to build a castle out of statements that can be easily laid seige by my enemy.

When I was just a Mommy of toddlers, I had little visions of what it meant when I said that my deepest desire is that my life would show the bigness and glory of God. Now I’m in a new place, and I say it, but I surely can’t picture it. So I guess I’ll just keep speaking, and trust for the grace to live it along the way.

When life gets a little lumpy...

Sat, 6 Jun 2009 17:59:20 -0400

I like to celebrate things, its just part of who I am. Last night, after the wee ones were tucked in bed, Nathaniel and Danielle and I were trying to decide if we were going to have ice cream on top of our brownies. Of course, I was arguing FOR the ice cream, “Come on, guys! It’s a celebration! A celebration of….” I was quickly racking my brain thinking what we could be celebrating, maybe that fact that Kate was potty trained this week? What was last week? And it sort of hit me like a train wreck.

Oh yeah. Right about this time last week we had just finished the last call to our family telling them the news we had received that day. How exactly do you go about telling your Mom and Dad that you have an aggressive form of cancer? Gratefully, Nathan made that call for me, but at the end of all the calls, we were so exhausted and wasted. We just laid in bed and held each other and cried.

My wake up call the next morning was Nathan’s Dad calling with such sweet words of encouragement. “Carlee, have you read the Psalm for the day?” I hadn’t yet; I had just been laying there with my eyes wide open, wondering how your life can switch priorities in such a rush. He read to me, and it was the beginning trickle of the flood of promises that has carried us along this week. Here are some excerpts from Psalm 30:

O LORD my God, I cried out to You,
And You healed me.
O LORD, You brought my soul up from the grave;
You have kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit….

Weeping may endure for a night,
But joy comes in the morning.

I cried out to You, O LORD;
And to the LORD I made supplication:
“What profit is there in my blood,
When I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise You?
Will it declare Your truth?
Hear, O LORD, and have mercy on me;
LORD, be my helper!”

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,
To the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to You forever.

What sweet promises! And so we started through the week. On Thursday evening we finally received the pathology reports from the Doctor. Overall, we felt like it was really good news. She said it isn’t exactly what she was hoping for as far as the most responsive cancer, but that it isn’t the worse either.

We had been told to prepare for an immediate mastectomy, and were so relieved to learn that they have decided to suggest chemo first, for a few months perhaps, and then the mastectomy. It feels like that gives plenty of time for us to make an informed decision, and plenty of time for God to work!

Our plan right now is that I am flying to Anchorage where I will have some tests done on the 17th of June. I will be admitted that night, and labor will be induced in the early hours of the 18th. Gratefully baby will be at 36 weeks then and should be just fine.

At my request (they wanted to schedule a MRI the same day baby is born!) I will have Thursday through Sunday to just enjoy the sweetness of being a Mommy to a new little soul. Hurrah!

Monday morning, June 22, the adventure really begins as I will be scheduled for tests like MRI and CAT scans, they need to see if there is cancer elsewhere in my body. On Tuesday we’ll meet with the surgeon and oncologist about those tests. On Wednesday I will have surgery to remove the sentinel lymph nodes for biopsy, which will tell us how far the cancer has pushed into my body. If we choose to follow through on the chemo route, they will also install a port into my chest at that time.

The 25th will be the day we hear about the lymph node biopsy, and it will give us a glimpse as far as how far this cancer has progressed. At that time, we will get the final recommendation of the chemo they want me to begin, and they want me to start right away.

I know they want me to stay in Anchorage to see how I respond, it may be just 10 days or so, perhaps even up to a month. There is some hope that I could do a chemo treatment in Anchorage, then one in Nome, and continue switching back and forth. It would surely give me more time at home. It is all pretty speculative right now, because we have to know what these scans and biopsies say before we really know how to proceed.

We’re crazily trying to figure out all we can about cancer and it’s treatments, praying for direction regarding the children and whether or not they should come to Anchorage for the first little while. My dream is that we can all be there together for them to meet the baby.

The days are flying by, and we’ve been so blessed with dear friends who have dropped meals by, or let the children come for a play date. Getting up each morning and seeing notes of encouragement from people I love so dearly and those I don’t even know has been a sort of link to reality, and a precious source of encouragement.

I asked Dani the other day if there was something wrong with the fact that I was just rejoicing, happy, and absolutely at peace. Who better to know if you’re in denial than your little sister? As we chatted we agreed that the times of tears and grief are there too, but it is reality for me that God has always been trustworthy with my life. That didn’t change when I found out I had cancer. He is still God, and Jesus’ own testimony is that His Father is always working! I know that He can heal me, and I am asking Him to do so. But first and foremost I am asking Him to use me for His glory. I was praying that prayer before all this happened, so in that regard, nothing has changed.

Please keep praying for us, I think the grace we have experienced is a direct result of so many prayers on our behalf. Pray for my wonderful Nathaniel, he is bearing SO much right now. Pray for housing for a family in Anchorage, wisdom with the chemo and treatments, and protection for our wee baby-to-be-born. And please hug your children more, kiss your husband a little longer when he comes home from work, tell those you love WHY you love them. Cancer is to my life like polish is to silver, it causes my treasures to gleam even brighter.