It has been a challenging month, with many ongoing lessons. I have been so excited about some of my new projects, challenged by returning to work, and battling what feels like ongoing immune recovery after chemo. I have been heartbroken and wounded by the passing of so many loved beings in the world lately, and by what seems too many to cancer. I have been heartened to see the overall survival rates of cancer improving; but numbed by the fact that colon cancer is now the number one cause of cancer related death in both men and women under 50. As someone who works in health, I love statistics and also hate being bundled in with them as a patient.

Things that I am doing:

Working on building community for those experiencing and supporting those with cancer. Ever evolving, but feels like an urgent calling.

Sharing my story.

I shared our story with a fundraiser for Zuma’s Healing Herds program which is an experiential support program for those with cancer and their families. They use rescued horses as a source for connection and feeling. My boys thrive at this ranch.

I have shared my story with the neighborhood community magazine and we will be in the April edition.

I have joined the Colorado Cancer Coalition Colorectal Cancer Task Force and will be sharing my story and importance of screening with colonoscopies to prevent advanced disease progression.

My important work at home:

We have continued with homeschooling, trying to find the best ways to support the boys. We are finding the ups and downs can be challenging. We are working on adding in some “enrichment” opportunities and hoping to broaden experience for both boys.

Getting things, and myself, prepared for surgery. Pre-hab physical therapy, a massage, yoga, teaching yoga, meditation, and lots of breath work. Fueling my body for another battle. Being outside. Moving so much until I am exhausted. Napping when needed. Holding space for the pending surgery, with limited expectations.

The Duality

Thankful there is no cancer; pissed that I have to have another surgery.

Grateful I have an amazing surgical team and lovely souls to support me inpatient; frustrated that I have to be away from Jon, the boys, Tommy and home.

Supported by the love of the “frat house” I live in; wishing I could still nourish them with dinners while I am in the hospital.

So relieved to be on insurance, not Cobra this round; really hating to have had cancer at all and need to know so much about insurance.

Strengthened to be way more healthy than I look on paper; screw the paperwork.

Preparing for the slow down.

Another forced break, another step out of the world into a healing mindset. The focus narrows, the mind slows, breath becomes the most important, and the delicacy of life is clear in each moment.

Here we go. My last day of work for 6 weeks is tomorrow. My lifelines, those who continue to check in to send hope and love; I am eternally indebted to you. If you have space and capacity; we welcome any love and thoughts you might be able to spend over the next couple weeks.

Mantras:

Thank you Universe, I trust you.

Music:

Hozier, Too Sweet

For the long read, my testimonial for Zuma’s Healing Herds:

As a 40 year old mom and healthcare provider who was extremely physically active and healthy, I was not expecting an emergency room visit for myself in November 2024. However, after a day of seeing patients, I got home and just felt off. My partner stayed with our two boys, age 2 and 6 at the time. While I drove myself to the emergency room. Our lives were flipped and shifted within 30 minutes of being in the emergency room. “You have a mass in your colon and what looks like metastatic lesions on your liver.” The words took days, weeks and months to settle in my body. Stage 4 colon cancer; trust me, don’t look up the survival statistics. In the meantime, I underwent an urgent tumor removal and placement of a colostomy. I started chemotherapy as soon as possible. Survival mode. I was inundated with words like “inoperable” and “chemotherapy indefinitely” and was given a year, maybe a few at most. Survival mode. Second opinions. A surgical option arrived, they would take the majority of my liver, my gallbladder, lymph nodes, more of my colon, and put some plumbing back together. Survival mode. I was advised to return to the chemo chair, to finish up therapy, kill remaining cells. Survival mode. 

All this while watching my two littles being exposed to more of healthcare and my own deconditioning then they should ever see. They would brush my hair, rub my feet, lay with me, and read me books. My partner spent time helping me manage an ostomy bag, my emotions that ebbed and flowed, and held my hand in ICU beds and chemotherapy chairs. My mother heart was breaking, knowing they would also need to heal from my health issues. Then we found Zuma’s Healing Herd Program. We met with Misty, and it felt like a missing puzzle piece, a piece that conventional medicine and therapy left untouched. I watched as my boys started to connect with the animals. My heart at ease as they grew confident in the presence of these large animals. They have started to talk how they are like the animals, how their emotions are similar, and how they can’t what for our next session. We work on relating the skills we learn with Misty to our daily, lived experience. We find calm with our breath, knowing our own emotions and state of mind can be contagious to others. We were out of survival mode; no longer isolated or paralyzed by the weight of a diagnosis. Healing herds has offered some calm and peace to our weeks. There are still my own appointments and ongoing treatments, but Zuma’s offers a safe space to sit with what is going on or to offer respite from the circling thoughts. Misty and the team at Zuma’s has affected the trajectory of our family’s life and journey. Healing herds is an incredibly invaluable resource for cancer survivors and their families. I sincerely hope this program can continue as a support, as a lifeline, for cancer survivors.