Chemo Camp

It’s not cancer that brings the bottom; it’s my hopes and dreams colliding with reality. And in that edge -- grace. Gentle grace to receive the story.- Kara Tippets

My mom is downstairs getting ready for dinner right now. I am listening to some music and just had a glass of wine. We came home after a full day of errands/appointments to a sparkly clean house. As mentioned before, Cleaning for a Reason, provides cleaning service free of charge for cancer patients while undergoing treatment. Today was the first clean. The house looks beautiful. My little type A, clean heart is so excited.

Tomorrow morning I must be at the hospital by 9:45 am. I will have blood work and diagnostics taken before starting treatment, which should take around 2 and half hours. All together they estimate I will be at the hospital for four hours or so.

My mom is sleeping on my couch this week. A house of four girls becomes a house of four + my mom this week. Unfortunately, she is quite used to the couch, our house and living with us. We love having her here. After all this time,  it often feels like she has always been here. 

My mom and I woke up early so we could get ready for our portraits to be taken. Cheryl Ungar, founder of the organization, Wedding Pink, a survivor and professional photography graced my home this morning to take pictures of me. I am certainly not a model and felt funny posing but she was very mindful of me, my story and was so gracious of her time/ talents to take pictures of before treatment begins. I know someday I will look back and treasure these pictures. What this time meant. Where I was and having my mom here. I look forward to sharing them with all of you when she sends them to me.

Today was chemo camp. I think they call it chemo teach, but I like to think that if I call it camp it sounds a bit more fun. (summer camp anyone?). We sat with a nurse for an hour or so asking questions, learning about the drugs and what not to do. Following, we were given a tour of the center and the room where I will be given treatment. I am not sure what I thought it would look like... but lets just say not like it was. A big room, filled with chairs, iv drips and individuals like myself that have endured cancer. It was quiet. I am certain that if a pin dropped you would hear it.

Faces. People. Others. Lives. Impacted by disease. 

The room was very crowded today. The nurse giving the tour advised me that every day is different. She went on to say that tomorrow I pick the chair that "suits my fancy" and take a seat. Well "Thank you so much" I wanted to say.

While walking through the room she introduced me to one of the chemo nurses. Looking me in the eyes it as though she saw my heart. A small part of me looked in her eyes and knew that she knew. The heartbreak. Perhaps I am assuming but I felt like she broke a bit. The narrative I imagine her replaying in her head.......

"You're so young. How old could you be? I am so sorry. Gosh. Wow my daughter is your age."

I said it was nice to meet her and I would be seeing her tomorrow.

My mom left the hospital agreeing that the room was terrible. That it was really hard to walk in there. Not that it being a beautifully designed or a well decorated place would hide the reality of what that room operates as, but it just seemed so dark and sad. 

I told my mom I hope they don't think we are going to be that quiet because I imagine us talking, maybe playing cards, perhaps inviting someone sitting nearby to play too. The quiet although at times is therapy to process and be still I can't imagine a chemo room being good for that. At Least while we all have to sit still and be pumped with toxins why not spend time in the company of others, reading a good book, telling stories, laughing...... Again I have not spent four hours there before, so perhaps I will think differently but my hope is to bring some joy, some life in that place tomorrow. 

We left the hospital and the rest of our day we ran some errands.  I am slowly converting to all natural products, no toxins, no chemicals, plant based, so I bought Kiehls face products at Nordstrom. My mom and I got coffee, walked around the mall (the weather was terrible), and I bought a new book at the book store. It was fun to spend some Christmas gift cards we had. 

We are getting ready to head to dinner and to be honest my heart feels really good. I am ready. Ready for this next step. Ready to move forward. Most of all, I look forward to leaning more into Gods story and not my own. Learning how he is going to change me. 

I look forward to sharing with all of you how it goes. We are off to have a good steak dinner before I go back to vegan life... and perhaps a glass of good wine. 

Hope this finds you well. Thank you for praying for me. Thinking of me. For those of you who bought shirts, thank you. For those who donated money online, thank you. All of this and so many other things have been tremendous gifts. For those of you who have offered meals and have not yet heard from me. I would be honored to be the recipient of a meal. So thank you, I will message you I promise. The cards, the well wishes, your words, your time, your energy. THANK YOU.

Ok must go look presentable :) Will write soon Love Kristina

Mom and I waiting on the nurse at the Cancer Center.

A special Happy Birthday to Sherry! This is Stephanie's mom and I at her wedding. I love this picture. As well Stephanie booked her flight today to come to Denver at the end of March :) 

Grace Beyond this Moment

I want to write to thank all of you who reached out the past twenty four hours.  Each message I read and appreciate. So thank you. Yesterday morning was a hard morning. One filled with tears, falling on my knees and longing for an understanding.... the anxiousness in my heart of what is to meet me in a weeks time hit me like a freight train yesterday and I wept.

Just as those moments come, those moments indeed pass. And they do pass....

I listen to this song a lot and the lyrics in one line are the reason.....

"Give me grace to see, beyond this moment here. To believe that there is nothing left to fear. That you alone are high above it all. For you my God, are greater still."

These words are the very outcry of my heart so many times when I find myself like I was yesterday. Yearning to trust that there is something beyond all of this.

I do believe that yesterday will happen again. Where I will be met with sorrow and grief that brings to me my knees, and that it is OK. Each time it happens I meet it with a new respect and new embrace. Knowing that I am allowed to grieve. That it is OK to cry. To be sad. That just as I am strong, I must grieve and process all that is taking place...

While I would never wish breast cancer on anyone, so often I find it hard to explain, or merely impossible to capture what it is like to process this on a daily basis. What it is like to look in the mirror and barely recognize who you are. Just today I was on the phone with a woman who was diagnosed almost 25 years ago. Her organization, The Wedding Pink, provides an all expenses paid wedding for a couple impacted by breast cancer. As a professional photographer, she offers portrait photography for survivors.  She has offered to take portraits for me before I start chemotherapy. So that I may remember my hair and just have these for years to come. In just my short discussion with her I found myself connected. As a survivor. We are survivors. I am grateful for that.

Early this morning, I headed out to find my spot on a stationary bike at the gym. I rode while listening to a sermon by Francis Chan. I was looking to fill my head with promises of Gods goodness when the lies in my head often speak louder. I still find church an emotional place to go so a podcast suits me just fine right now.

The rest of my week is busy preparing my last few things before starting chemotherapy. I am meeting the acupuncturist tonight. Through Cleaning for a Reason, Green Cleaners, a local cleaning company is donating their time and energy to clean my house as a gift during my treatment. They are stopping by on Thursday morning. Friday, I meet with my counselor and that evening we have our company holiday party. Saturday, I have long overdue date for a pedicure with a friend and am meeting with a personal trainer to work on exercises to keep me strong during chemotherapy. My mom flies on Sunday night and will be staying for a week. Broncos of course play at 2:40 pm too :)

Whew.... busy week of things but all good things.

I am so grateful for the time my mom is able to spend, here with me. My portraits are being done Monday morning so I look forward to having some with her in them too.

Again, thank you for your kind words, your continued support. This is a long road, so to continue be the recipient of your words, prayers and kindness is so appreciated.

I am off. Have a good week.

Sunset last evening...

When you realize you have Patagonia on, everywhere...

If you knew what it was like

It has been nearly two weeks and I have only been to the doctor twice. My life is starting to look normal again. This past long weekend, I spent New Years in Breckenridge, shared time in the company of friends, watched the snow fall in giant flakes, I joined a fancy new gym, ate tacos, had margaritas and cleaned my house. It seemed no matter what I did. How many errands I ran, I was just trying to find enough things to pass the time between now and next week.

You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and in the manner in which you live.

Yesterday I woke up to learn of the passing of Stuart Scott. I cried. A cry that aches for this horrible disease. For how to robs. For what it requires of you. For what it demands and what it can take away. Just last week I learned that Kara Tippets, writer of the book The Hardest Peace, (my favorite book I have ever read) with stage IV breast cancer is dying. You may read what may be one of her last posts here.

Two years ago today, my dear friend Amy Patwa, of who I have spoken of before, died from her battle with breast cancer. Connected by a summer spent together at Younglife camp in Florida, I had the joy of sharing a bunk bed and serving meals in a dining hall alongside her. When it came to battling cancer, Amy did cancer well. (Not that it was in her nature to do anything less than well). She braved cancer like a badge of honor. Declaring the goodness of who God is, inspite of cancer. Inspite of hopelessness, she hoped, for something beyond a disease but to a father who loves his children dearly and weeps alongside them. She believed that until the very end. 

Amy's sister and I have connected and exchanged stories. The two us connected by her sisters legacy. Like my family, they are also BRCA 2 positive. Her sister and I have shared mastectomy tips and tricks. (She underwent a prophylactic mastectomy). Amys sister has shared her own grief in the passing of her sister and like me admires the life she lived so very much. Listening to her speak about Amy brings tears to my eyes. To have simply known who she was, was such a gift. I love listening to her speak about her and Amys relationship. Amy and her sister are just like Brittany and I. Amy being the younger sibling fighting breast cancer.  And her sister older looking down at her.

A strange connection of cancer. Of knowing what it is like to be sucummbed to a life threatening illness. To have one choice only and that is to fight. Three people, one whom the world has honored in the last twenty four hours, Stuart Scott, another who is grieved by families and the christian community, Kara Tippets and another who was my own personal hero, Amy Patwa.

Just yesterday in the locker room at the gym I was changing my clothes. I have never changed in front of anyone since my surgery. My giant scars felt like a big sign. A giant sign that says I had cancer. Although I am sure not many women looked or thought about it. I found myself covering up. Turning around the other direction...... Yet at the very same time I wanted to say something. I wanted people to know what it is like. To be robbed. To have this taken away from you. To not feel like yourself anymore. To have to make choices about your future, the children you desire when you are not married in your 20s. To no longer have feeling in your chest. To be embarrassed by your own skin. I want others to know my grief. To understand my fears. To know what it feels like to long for normalcy. What it feels like to watch everyone else moving on with their lives. To have trouble trusting in anything anymore. To have a hard time dreaming about a future that is beyond cancer.  I want someone to know, to ache with me... but they can't (you can't) and truthfully I hope you never ever have to know what this feels like.

Today I suspect will be a hard day. I long for those who have passed. For Amy. For her family. And I am just feeling a bit out of it today....

I will be in an all day planning meeting for work and to be honest I am a bit nervous. Planning for anything anymore is hard to do. I often wonder what the point is, when so many things go different ways anyway.

One week from today I will be in chemo clinic. I cry thinking about it. 

Oh heart how I long to feel different. 

May this day find you hopeful. For someone like me who finds that so impossible today.

Family History BRCA Gene

A lot of you have asked how I came to know that I had Breast Cancer. I recapped my diagnosis here but never really discussed how I came to that day. So in an effort to provide more information surrounding my diagnosis at such a young age I am going to try and cover some information regarding our family history and the BRCA genetic mutation. Hopefully this will provide some helpful information for those of you with family history of breast cancer and curious about your options.

In September 2005 my moms half sister, my Aunt Carol, underwent the BRCA genetic testing. Her test confirmed a positive result for the BRCA 2 gene. Carol had been diagnosed with breast cancer twice prior to this test (first at age 42 and again four years later at age 46). Given the family history it was assumed at that time that my grandfather, Byron, was the carrier of the genetic mutation. My grandmother, Katherine was married to my grandfather Byron and between the two of them they three children. Doctors  informed my mom and her two sisters, that they were at 50% risk for the inherited gene mutation as well, so it was recommended everyone have the test done.

In September of 2006 we learned my mom was positive for the BRCA 2 gene. Of the four daughters of my grandfather Byron, two tested positive BRCA 2 and two tested negative.

Flash forward. I was aware that with my mom being a carrier of the gene I also had a 50% chance of inheriting it, but never felt it necessary to know. At the time of her test result I was at such low risk being at my young age. I decided that I would wait, I was not going to act on it now and why fear something I could not do anything about (Or so I thought, more on this later). So I decided to not do anything. Assuming one day when I married, and had children, I would go ahead and have my ovaries taken. (Ovarian Cancer tag lined the silent killer, often detected when it is too late hence the recommended removal of the ovaries) (BRCA 1/2 are the breast cancer and ovarian cancer genetic mutations).

My parents after living in Texas for two years moved back to Louisville and my mom visited a new doctor. With this new OBGYN she began discussing our family history. The doctor kindly urged my mom to discuss the genetic testing with my sister and I. She explained that we should find out because we would get advanced screening and it would be best so we can be proactive.

In March of 2013, Angelina Jolie made headlines as she spoke about her medical choice to have a prophylactic mastectomy after learning of her BRCA 1 diagnosis. The world criticized her for making this choice before being diagnosed with Breast Cancer but she decided it was a choice she wanted for herself and her family. This headline along with my own mothers discussion with her OBGYN led me to discuss my options with my doctor. My doctor, of who I owe great thanks too, openly discussed with me the risk and my options. She advised me to have the genetic test done. Our conversation as well came up when discussing appropriate birth control. My OBGYN strongly discouraged anything that had added hormones, aware of my families history of breast cancer. The more we discussed, the more I began to ask myself about the genetic test.

July 2, 2014, I went in for my annual OBGYN exam. During this time a full breast exam was conducted by my doctor and she said everything looked great. Prior to leaving I casually said, "You know I have been thinking I may want to do the genetic test?" (assuming I needed to schedule a time to have it done). She said "I think that is great, we can take your blood today." Surprised that it was such a simple thing as drawing my blood, I hesitated and then said "Great". I remember leaving the office and telling my mom that I did it. She advised me to go back upstairs to make sure they know that I have had family members take the test before. (the cost is much lower in this case). I ran upstairs to make sure the test was conducted to include my mom and Aunt Carol as family members and headed to work.

I was told my result would come in a few weeks time. Not thinking much about it, I carried on with my day.

At the end of July, after a round of phone tag with my doctor, she informed me that I was in fact positive for BRCA 2. Devastating and scared I cried. I wrote about learning about this here.

I immediately began looking at my options. I read stories of women who underwent proactive mastectomies. Asked myself, Do I take my breasts now in advance? I ordered books on hereditary breast cancer, sought to be informed, brave and be wise. The funny thing is,  I had never done a self breast exam, I did not even know how. My fear, although present that day still seemed so far away. Breast cancer was something I accepted as something I someday would probably have but not anytime soon.

Besides so many people asked me what I was afraid of. Referenced that my mom was in her 50s and had never had breast cancer despite being a gene carrier. Many others scoffed at my decision, "Why did you do that? Why would you want to know? Now you're afraid and for what?"

I kindly listened in one ear and out the other. It was a decision I made and although it was not the result I wanted I desired to know and now I knew.

As a result of my genetic test my doctor ordered an MRI. She advised that due to the dense breast tissue of younger women, mammograms often show false positives. She went on to explain that an MRI done with injected dye would be the most comprehensive way to screen. Without a thought I scheduled my MRI for September 15, 2014. (check it off for this year). Just a day after scheduling my test, my mom booked her flight to join me for a weekend in Denver. We were going to walk in the breast cancer walk (of all things) and she said, "Why not have your MRI while I am there so I can go with you." So I changed the date. September 25, 2014 it was.

I will not go into the details but what I learned from my MRI was that unbeknownst to me I had breast cancer. Although I would like to know things like, How long had it been there? When would I have felt it myself? But I cannot. All I know is that my choice for the genetic test, as encouraged by my doctor and the MRI test discovered my breast cancer.

I will continue to write more and answer questions some of you may have. Perhaps why I chose a mastectomy over a lumpectomy? or Why not just to take the one breast? Why I did not get to keep my nipples? Can I pass the gene on? All of these and more. Only because so many of you have asked. So many of you do not know, and why would you? I certainly did not. I hope my story can be helpful.

So I join now my two aunts, my grandmother, and so many in my family as survivors. Who chose to live, be strong and fight for understanding, research and a cure so someday others will not have to walk through this.

Have a wonderful Friday everyone.

Courage, Dear Heart - C.S Lewis

This morning, the last day of the year 2014. I slept in. I had intended to go to cross fit at 6 am, but I hit snooze. It was below 0 this morning and my bed was cozy. Some mornings I find myself in pain. I am sleeping on my side again and I assume at night I sometimes put to much pressure on my expanders. So many times I don't listen to what my body needs. I have not for so many years. I am always pushing it, never stopping and if the past few months have taught me anything, it is to slow down a bit. Slow down so much to live in the present of the preciousness of life. If we are always rushing we will miss it. So this morning I listened to the warmth of the covers, the ice covered windows, the darkness and laid in my bed a bit longer....

Cancer slowed things down.

My constant list making, my life planning, my expectations met me that day in September when I heard the words CANCER through the phone. My life seemed to pause. My heart shattered. I remember sitting in the car with my mom that day crying. We sat in my car that day for hours. unsure what to do, where to drive, what to do. When my mom picked me up we sat in my work parking lot for forty five minutes or more.... I messaged friends who had asked if I received my test results. That seems so silly to me now. I text messaged some of the people dearest to me, to tell them that I had cancer. I am not sure I could have gotten on the phone if I tried. I could not utter the words. My mom and I frozen in time.

I remember when we left my office and we drove to get pedicures. We drank a glass of wine, and sat in shock. Nothing mattered anymore. We had no place to go, no where to be. The reality that awaited me over the next months was a mystery. The path unknown. My dad was booking his flight while my mom and I sat in a nail salon. Over the next forty eight hours I met with three doctors in Colorado and laid at the bed of my parents and cried.

This morning I took a shower and looked down at my chest. I rubbed my scar lines and the places where the drains went in at my side. I looked in the mirror as I carefully curled my hair. Two weeks from now my first round of treatment begins. This body that is strong and has healed beautifully is getting ready for a new challenge and my fears are very real.

This time last year I was getting ready for a ski trip to Steamboat Springs. This trip was the start of a year of traveling, airports, adventure and connecting with people from so many parts of my life. I took three trips to Southern California, Las Vegas, Chicago, Seattle, Texas, Clearwater Florida, two trips to Kentucky and just last month was in Guatemala. My heart is full of memories, laughter, and so many celebrations.

More than the places I saw, the only thing that I look back and see are those of you that drew near to me when I needed it the very most. All of you that have showed up, sent messages, written cards, wiped my tears, made me laugh and gone above and beyond to make sure I knew that I was cared for, that I mattered and that my story mattered.

I have so much to be grateful for. In the coming new year I will become an aunt and a breast cancer survivor. I have a job that I enjoy and so many good people in my life that pour into it. More than that I have hope that this story, my story does indeed matter and my ever changing heart will continue to learn, grow, let go and move towards grace.

As I prepare for the new year, treatment, reconstruction surgery and lots of healing..... I ask you to keep drawing near. Not just to me, but to those that matter in your life.

Move towards others. They need you. I need you.

My only hope for this year is to have courage. Simply courage for today and by Gods grace each day granted beyond that....

I am heading to the mountains today to spend New Years quietly soaking up that I have today.... and looking forward to the next year...

***Thank you to all of you who have been praying for my sister. She is feeling much better today and the baby is doing well. My family spent the last two evenings at the hospital as my sister underwent an emergency appendectomy surgery. Please continue to keep my family in your prayers as it certainly has been an unexpected year and my sister is half way through her pregnancy.

Tears on Christmas

I had every intention of writing on the plane about my time at home but I forgot to charge my computer so I was left with my notebook and a borrowed pen from the flight attendant.

Handwritten and now typed below:

I ordered a water just now from the flight attendant for my packet of EmergenC. I drink one a day, along with a Kombucha to make sure I am getting vitamins, antioxidants and nutrients for healing. Now that my week at home is done, I will be moving back into strict vegan eating. Avoiding all chemically processed, artificial flavored and hormone induced food. It is amazing what you get used too.

I wish I could write and tell you that my ten days in Louisville with family and friends went without tears, and only joy, but that would not be true.

Most of my visit I spent at my parents home. I set aside some time to visit friends but quickly found myself gravitating back to be with my mom and dad. No particular reason why but I suppose it felt safe. That if my emotions caught up to me, that it was OK to breakdown at their house. I could escape to my room there and take a few breaths. My parents, while they have spent a great deal of time with me the past few months have only been around a handful of occasions when I have a complete breakdown. Part of that, is trying to stay strong for them......

I was doing quite well with this, until Christmas day.  It was as though someone told me I had cancer for the very first time.

Opening gifts in our living room I watched as my sister opened maternity clothes, things for "junior" (the new baby's already nickname) and her husband a new wardrobe. My dad unpacked the usual slew of outdoor gear, while my mom received new cooking items and a special bracelet saying "grandma".

Two particular gifts I opened from my mom and dad were two new beanie hats. Both fitting perfectly and adorable.... left me silent. I held the hats in my hand and hung my head low. Trying to disguise my anguish I said thank you and that I loved them. My mom knowing me often better than myself looked deep into my eyes and knew my words although true, were apart of a larger narrative.

Once we finished exchanging gifts, I retreated to my bedroom. Looking into the mirror at myself I watched as a pool of tears filled my eyes. My stomach ached and I began to weep. Afraid someone would walk in I made sure to shut my door. Angry for being upset, I tried to tell myself that my parents meant well. That the hats are something I need. Besides I love wearing hats.

I could not muster the courage to put them on my head.

My fear of the future, met me that Christmas morning like a tidal wave. I crawled into bed and cried. Christmas, I thought, a day of joy. A day to look back at the year, all that one has accomplished, and celebrated. It is also a day to look forward to the new year coming ahead. What will the new year bring? What new things will one strive for?

This Christmas day found me looking back overwhelmed for all that has been. Two giant scars across my chest are evidence of the cancer they found. And then I look forward and weep knowing what is ahead. The unknown, the fear, the pain that awaits with chemotherapy.

My mom knowing something was not OK, found me in my bed with my tears. She sat next to me and listened as I explained how I wish I had not been here today. That maybe if I was not here for Christmas then I would not have ruined it. My tears, my sadness ruined the day I told myself. She assured me this was not true and that the greatest gift of all was that we were all home together. She sat with me as she has so many times before, and wiped my tears.

__________________________

I landed back in Colorado this morning. Tomorrow I go back to work, and the doctor. I will be scheduling acupuncture, physical therapy and the cleaning service tomorrow morning. My stitches are being removed Tuesday. My much anticipated stack of bills at home was not here yet, so I suppose they may arrive tomorrow. Wednesday, my medical deductible restarts all over again.

I am taking one foot in front of the other as best I can but the truth is I am still fighting to seek gratitude and joy.

All of you preparing your new years resolutions. Boasting about the change you will make, the pounds you will loose, the body fat percentage you will achieve, take it from a cancer patient.... those pounds you gained over the holidays from meals shared with family and friends, I pray I have many meals and time spent with friends that perhaps cause a few pounds to be gained. Those wrinkles that so many of you are applying creams and paying to have erased, I pray by gods grace I live to see lines, evidence of laughter, of a life lived.  I pray that the meals I have in the coming weeks still taste good when my mouth is covered in toxins from chemo.

 I long for a new year that meets me with more joy, more gratefulness and more of learning about how good God is even when things seem so hard.

Do me a favor and this next year do life well. Live the next year so much so that you immerse yourself in the very things that you delight. The things that bring you joy. Seek forgiveness and never ever stop seeking joy.

My heart feels like it has been broken into a million pieces, but slowly I pick one piece up at a time, even when it is as though they are scattered about the room again. Today I find myself anxious, scared and tired, but smiling about the last week I spent in Kentucky. I do have much to look forward too. I will be an aunt to a little boy this coming May and two dear friends are getting married this summer (Chelsea and Kylie)!

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas, and if your Christmas found you in tears, may you still find thanks and know that I am very grateful for you. I am certain God loves you very much too.

Happy New Year Everyone
Love, Kristina

*** The hats, I will post sometime, I warmed up to and like them a lot. I love them so and will be worn so much in the coming months.

Here are some pictures from my time at home. Enjoy!

Thirteen Year Tradition of decorating Gingerbread Houses.

Not our best decorations but still fun. 

Stefanie and I ran into Chelsea at breakfast one morning. 

Christmas Eve dinner at Mortons.

Brittany (Junior :)) and Mom

Brittany and I (Thank you Emily and Daniel at Louisville Athletics) at the Basketball game Saturday. Despite the loss we still had a great time.

Sister picture. Erin and Lindsey.

To not miss it - Merry Christmas

Today is Christmas Eve and right now I am up early while my parents are still sleeping....

Two nights ago my dad and I bundled up in warm clothes and went for a walk. It was pitch dark outside.  When I asked if we should bring a flashlight he said we would not need one. He explained that our eyes would adjust. My dad. Just like that, trusting the skies and the stars. It was chilly but we walked for over an hour. Walking we reflected on the past few months.  How much has changed, what is on the horizon and how grateful we are that I get this time at home before I have to start the next thing. Christmas happens to fall right in the middle of it all.....

Twelve weeks ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. In two weeks time, I will start twelve weeks of chemotherapy. Come April, should everything go along smoothly, I will complete my reconstruction surgery. So much is ahead...

As we walked we would stop and stare up to the skies. My dad would point out constellations and I would just gaze in wonder. As I looked up it was as though I was looking back in time. I remember a time when I was little, my dad drove me to a park and we laid on the hood of his car, staring up to the sky. Such a sweet memory.

As much as my perspective has changed because of cancer.... so many days I find myself longing for the way things were.

This year my immediate family will be celebrating Christmas together. My sister and her husband, celebrating a last christmas before they become parents to a little boy..... My mom and dad, celebrating as soon to be grandparents..... and me, a soon to be breast cancer survivor and aunt.

We indeed have so much to be grateful for.

I want to thank all of you who have already seen me while I am visiting home. Those of you that I have not seen in so many years. Your kind words, your prayers and simply the hugs are so appreciated. Those of you sharing my story, asking others for prayers thank you.

In a few weeks time I will experience what it is like to have everyone in on your story, even when you don't want them to be. Baldness, invites others in and I am afraid. No more hiding.  My desire for when this day comes, is that I can embrace others faces, and stares just as I am embracing the hugs from all of you wanting to wish me well. I hope that my face and my smile demonstrate hope. The hope that I have. That in the end everything is going to be ok..... That my heartbreak now, will soon mend. That I will not be defined by cancer nor will I allow it to steal my joy.

I have been meaning to share this as well. If you see me, or give me a hug, and you start to cry..... know that your tears are welcomed and even appreciated. Being the recipient of others tears is one of the most humbling gifts. To know that I am wept for. That others are hurting with me. What a gift. I am humbled that my story, that my words bring you to tears. What an honor.

Thank you for crying..... you have my permission to cry. I cry all the time and I don't think anyone should cry alone.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, I did not consciously make a plan how how I would go about doing cancer. I don't remember choosing whether I would be angry or joyful..... but I do remember this. I met a friend over a beer, two weeks after my diagnosis. We talked about it all. What it meant, what would happen. This particular friend posed the question, "What do you hope for in all of this?"

I sat and pondered his question and then began to speak, "To not miss it". Puzzled he looked at me and I went on further to explain. "I dont want to miss what he is doing in all of this, with my story, with breast cancer. Things like this don't just happen and I am confident he is going to do something. Teach me things, change me, change others and I dont want to be on the other side and have missed it. So I want to be present in it. Cry, laugh, and embrace the journey of breast cancer....I don't want to miss it."

Today that wish and that hope have not changed. I am fighting for the present. The present that is today and live in what tomorrow is, when tomorrow comes. 

Merry Christmas to you and your family wherever you are..... to my many friends around the world that I have had the privilege of meeting in my travels I am sending my love and joy to you as well. Tomorrow, I plan to drink central american coffee, share gifts with my family, drink some colorado brew and set my phone away for the day. I don't want to miss Christmas either.

Love Kristina

When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.Matthew 2:10 

***Below are some pictures from the Louisville game last night with my family.

2013 National Championship Trophy, the one my Honduran classroom cheered so well for.