Miracles and Mormon Muffins

Hi, everyone. We have had a difficult week. Monday, February 18 my mom and Ernie took Jenny to the hospital because she quit speaking all together, had become very lethargic and lost some more coordination in the right side of her body. After waiting nine hours in the ER, and after a CT and an MRI, the doctors discovered that half of Jenny's brain was clouded in tumor and the other half was covered in abcess. As soon as mom and Ernie saw the scans for themselves they knew that the battle was over. It seemed the antibiotics weren't taking care of the infection and the cancer was also spreading. Together they decided instead of subjecting Jen to more surgeries, they would bring her home and make her as comfortable as possible for her final days. A strange burden seemed to be lifted from our shoulders as we began to feel the intention of the Lord. We are getting used to the idea. We are struggling but are somewhat at peace. Jenny, ironically, has popped back up after quitting the antibiotics. I was able to go to Utah, spend time with her and possibly say my final good-byes. She has become more alert than she has been for weeks and has gained some strength. What a blessing for her to be able to enjoy some more days with her family. I, for one, will treasure that gift forever.

Here's another e-mail she sent entitled "Miracles and Mormon Muffins." It was sent on December 28, 2006. Hope you like it.

On December 7, I officially became a one year cancer survivor. It’s cute that they make special little names for us – “victim” is a no-no – and I would agree with that. “Survivor” just sounds better I guess, but it always makes me think of the song “Eye of the Tiger”, and then I picture myself doing chin ups and pulling sleds of rock up an icy hill like Rocky in Rocky IV – that’s right, “eye of the tiger” that’s me.

To celebrate my “survivorship” we went to eat at the Greenery, one of my favorite restaurants and an old family favorite. We ate “Mormon muffins” and had some diet coke (I think their diet Coke is the best – my friend Jen calls it “crack water” – it’s true, that stuff will kill you). The waitress asked if it was a birthday or something and I explained to her that I was officially a one year cancer survivor. She is co-chair for the Relay for Life, an event that is held each year at Weber State to raise money for cancer research. She brought me a big decadent, gluttonous piece of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting (and a cherry on top) and she sang “happy one year anniversary”. My eyes filled with tears and I saw that my dad’s, Lesa’s and my mom’s were too. I hope that waitress understands what a service she did for me that night. It made everything really special. She’s also sending me a special invitation for the Relay for Life in August.

My last chemo treatment went really well. I didn’t feel as sick. On the third day of the Temodar cycle I took care of the kids for most of the day. We built a fort out of blankets. Both Erin and Phoenix were really excited about it. Phoenix just rolled around inside it, staring at the pictures of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet on the blanket. Phoenix can get anywhere she wants to go just by rolling and scooting. She sits up by herself now (which is amazing considering she has a pretty big head for such a little body!). Erin called the fort her “little house”. She squealed with laughter when she realized what I was doing with the big blanket. I was “Grandma” coming for a visit to see my “grandkids” (Carebears and a freaky looking doll that Erin loves).

I wrote about “miracles” in my journal and I thought I’d share part of it with you:

“. . . My whole world came to a sudden, terrible stop . . . I was deeply, terribly depressed, and without the Love of my Heavenly Father, I most assuredly would have remained that way. I’m here by His Grace and I must always be mindful of that fact. I may not experience the miracle of being cured, but the miracles I have experienced have been many. . .”

I look at Phoenix and I can’t believe how close I came to losing her. I am so thankful there was a doctor brave enough to take a chance on our unborn baby. They did so much work and research on my behalf. I feel so blessed and happy to have her in my life. She’s Ernie through and through and I love her so much. I also experience joy every single day. I remember wondering what I might be able to pray for. I knew people who were also young with children who undoubtedly prayed to be healed and who passed away. I wondered if I was questioning the will of our omnipotent God by asking to be healed; so I prayed that I would be able to feel joy again. I honestly never thought I’d feel that again. My whole world was twisted up into everything cancer, and now I sometimes go all day without thinking about it once. I woke up thinking about it; I went to bed thinking about it. Some days I would cry off and on the whole day, and now I can’t remember the last time I cried about it. It’s not that crying is bad, but I was wallowing in my own sadness and there were times that I literally felt the presence of the Adversary who wanted me to be miserable. The Lord was willing and able to ensure that I had joy in my life, but I believe he also wanted me to have the faith to ask for it.

I couldn’t have made it those first few harrowing months without the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the unfaltering love of my husband and family, and the sweet, kind acts of neighbors and even strangers. I don’t have the actual quote, but I believe it was Spencer W. Kimball who once said, “God does love us and watch over us, but it is usually through someone else that he meets our needs.” (I’m sure he was much more eloquent). Like the simple vase of tulips from a sister in my ward. For two weeks I kept them near the window in my kitchen, and when I would see them, I would think of spring and hope and better times. Tiny acts of kindness such as these got me through the darkest days of my life.

We had a terrific Christmas, and I hope that all of you did as well. Happy New Year!