Reaching My Nadir

The past 2 days have been hard. The extreme fatigue, the headaches, along with the mental toll that fighting leukemia can take on a person, is one that I am still learning to accept and comprehend. Being thrown into a cancer that I knew nothing about (I didn’t even know leukemia was a blood cancer), can make this feel like a mountain I can’t climb at times. But like every journey, it is one step in front of the other.

Yesterday I mustered up the energy to go on a slow walk around the unit. A nurse who I had previously, stopped and asked me how I was doing. The tears started to fall as I explained how I just can’t do this anymore. She looked me in the eye and said, “Yes you can, you are doing it. You are halfway!” And you know what? She was right. She is one of my biggest cheerleaders here. She acknowledges my feelings, yet cheers me on to take it one day at a time, even when the days feel long and insurmountable.

One of my favorite passages from the Bible is Psalm 121.” I lift my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” Some versions say, “I lift my eyes to the mountains” and I’m going with that for multiple reasons. Not only is my God as grand and can do as grandeur things as the mountains, but also at times our circumstances can feel like mountains. When I look at the road ahead of me, it feels like Mt. Kilimanjaro and yet when I look up, it’s not the mountain I should see, but God. For that’s where my help comes from. Yet the mountain can often be what I see.

The harder days seem to be a bit more than the “good” days, but I am in my “nadir” (lowest point), so I keep trying to tell myself it will hopefully only look up from here. It will take awhile, but every day I don’t need a transfusion, is another step in the right direction. Like my nurse said, it’s okay to be sad and it’s okay to cry. Cancer is so different than heart failure and I sometimes confuse the two emotionally, mentally, and physically. I am still learning!

Onto the pictures…

I was able to get outside with my mom and sister this week – there is something about the touch of a breeze and the rays of the sun that can offer a whole new perspective. As we sat outside talking about everything under the sun, I forgot for a short amount of time, that I had leukemia. It wasn’t until I wheeled my own wheelchair (I use it as a walker) back through the sliding glass doors, that the wave of reality hit me again. I was entering into the cancer world again. But for just those few moments, I felt like Kristin and not Kristin, with cancer. A welcomed change.

One of the highlights of my week is FaceTiming Mazy when she gets home from school. She gets to show me what’s in her folder, reads me a book, and proudly shows me what she’s setting up with her Barbies. Sometimes my mind struggles to get into the imaginative world of Barbies, but oh what I would give to sit in our front room, listening to her imagination come to life, and watching her reenact a scene from earlier that day or something she dreams about doing. That day will come again!

Outside my window at University Hospital, I am witnessing the ever-changing seasons of Michigan, in full view. Hills of trees sit on the horizon, while the trees start to show their wear and tear from the hot summer months. Little did I know that the blog post I wrote, called “Unexpected Beauty” would be something I would once again, preach to myself. That’s often where I find myself in writing – looking back at posts as a humbling reminder that I need those words more than anyone else.

Start of Week 1:

Start of Week 3 – they are changing!

I was looking at my Instagram account the other day and noticed I had written some descriptors of who I am . I noticed one was missing – leukemia patient. I typed it, then erased it. Typed it, erased it. I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for this description to be a part of me. I finally retyped it and left it. It meant it was time to own it – own the story God has given me. It’s easy to own the parts that make sense, but my leukemia journey has sure raised a lot of questions in my own heart. Though I know that if I don’t embrace the story God has given me (something I preach in my very own book), I’m denying what God might be trying to do through me and in the end, miss the blessings because of it. The words “Leukemia Patient” don’t define me, but describe the story God is writing for my life. So they are hear to say and eventually I PRAY I can type, “Leukemia Survivor”.

Thank you ALL for the continued prayers, love, and support shown throughout this journey. It’s a journey we are still comprehending ourselves and one that still has us scratching our heads, but we also see the ways that God has worked in and through this. Thank you for walking this journey with us!