The House of Mourning

I went on a date with the hubs Sunday night to watch Doctor Strange. I am a huge Marvel fan, and an even bigger Benedict Cumberbatch fan, so I was really excited about the merge of both. I was not expecting to leave the movie theater with a lesson on life and death. I mean, it's a Marvel movie, for crying out loud. Most people will overlook the lesson or not grasp it completely, but my current situation makes me more attune with these themes.
Today I am specially sensitive to these topics. Today I found out the little four year old girl I've been desperately praying for, Kinsley, is probably not going to survive her liver cancer. The third and last chemotherapy had no effect on her tumor, and she can no longer receive radiotherapy.
I had not cried for her thoroughly until I was in the radiation machine getting my fifth session. I remembered her mom posting how scared Kinsley felt all alone in the radiation machine that she needed to be sedated. This time around, her cancer had spread to her lungs and sedation was not an option. She was so brave learning to stay still alone in there at such a young age. I should know, I am aware of how Emmalee would act having to be left alone and immobile in such a position and place. Radiation greatly reduced her tumor between her lung and heart making her heart rate and breathing normal again allowing her to sleep. This will allow her to make a make-a-wish trip feeling strong and healthy. She will recover from the side effects of her treatment before her tumors overtake her health and later her life.
I tried not to move during my session while the tears made my eyes itch and my breathing became uneven. I sobbed soft "please Jesus, in your name, please" as I prayed for her cancer cells to just die. It happens. Cancer cells have figure out a way to outlive cellular expiration, but there have been cases where the cell just autodestroys. Doctors can't explain those cases. I thought of writing to her parents asking if they could do immunotherapy. Then I thought of my own cancer and how everyone keeps suggesting treatments like I haven't researched everything possible I can do. These parents most definitely have researched everything they can do to try to save their baby girl.
"Why? She is just 4."
I couldn't help it. I questioned.
I recently learned from my study of the book of Job that Job questioned God and even after that God affirms that Job did not sin.
I found it strange finding my mind going back to Doctor Strange. (Ha! strange, Strange)
Spoiler alert! Don't keep reading if you haven't watched the movie and don't wish to know anything that happens.

Here is Team Kinsley's photo. 

The Ancient One has taught Doctor Strange many lessons on the multiverse, astral projection, teleportation, opening portals, using the force and what-not. He reads a whole library on mysticism that would be hard to understand for pretty much everyone. At the end, the Ancient One explains the arrogant and brilliant Doctor Strange he has yet to learn the most important and simplest lesson of them all:
"It is not about you."

Life on this Earth is not about us.
What does that mean?
I don't know.
It probably means something different to all of us.
I do know one thing: it is true.
And she ties it with the reality that is everyone's inevitable end: we all die.
And somehow, she asserts this is what gives meaning to life.
I'll come back to this.

Everyone likes to think of destiny when thinking of finding their spouse or making that dream trip.
However the truth is we are destined to die.
Not only are we destined to die, but the day has been set.
The Bible says our days are numbered.
How can death give us meaning?
And how can we make this inevitable event a part of our life?
This brings me to the book of Ecclesiastes:

Ecclesiastes 7

2 It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting; for that is the end of all men, and the living will lay it to his heart.

3 Sorrow is better than laughter, for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.

4 The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.

...

14 In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider this: God also hath set the one over against the other, to the end that man should find nothing after him.

I often wondered about this passage.

How can it be better to be in the house of mourning? 

We have been thoroughly studying the gospel of John in our home church,

I've read the words "Whatever you ask in my name you will receive" many times. 

My father-in-law reminds us that verse has second part "if we ask according to His will."

I pulled a Gideon on God. 

I came to my room and asked God to prove Himself to me, prove that verse is true and we shall receive what we ask in His name.

I prayed, asked, begged with all my heart "In Jesus' name, give Kinsley a miracle. Make this last chemo work."

How could this not be in His will?

I thanked Him because it seemed He had answered. 

And now it turns out He hadn't. 

Only radiotherapy worked and thus only her tumors on the left shrunk while the tumors on the right side grew. Now she has reached the permitted amount of radiotherapy and has been sent home to live peacefully until her tumors grow again. 

Why? How is this better than the house of mirth?

I go to the only answer I have for everything that happens; I give thanks. 

Gratitude and peace are not exempt from tears. 

I think of Giana and Bailey, who are forever with me and a part of my heart. 

They wouldn't be had they not been called home. 

They changed me. Their lives changed mine forever. 

Thousand miles apart and never having met, two girls changed my life for the better. 

They make me appreciate each day, pray with passion, remember them with joy, stay in awe of how they were able to touch my life and the repercussions they will have on those that surround me, on how I view and treat my daughters and my husband.
I was in their house of mourning and took them with me forever. 

I think of my own journey. 

It astounds me that so many women are praying for me passionately never having met me and how many are touched by my story transforming their own, making us one. 

That is the way death has meaning. 

It joins us. 

It is part of all of us. 

My favorite verses from John this time around were these:

John 17

20 “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21 that all of them may be one,Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22 I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— 23 I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

It makes me sick to my stomach how this is not true amongst my brothers and sisters in Christ.

I'm sick of seeing the division between us.

These are from Great Commission Church, these are from Impacto Church. 

These are from Hernan, and these are from Home church.

These celebrate Halloween, these are against tattoos and dating. 

Ugh, it's revolting. 

I want to see unity in the body of Christ. 

I love that Christ has merged my heart with Giana and her dad, Bailey, and now Kinsley and her aunt and the many ladies in my Mundane Faithfulness Community. 

There is so much mourning in that community I sometimes can't bare it. 

My pain is but drop in some of their never ending oceans. 

My heart breaks so many times praying for these women I will probably never meet. 

Yet God has joined us because of our pain and suffering. 

He has made us part of each other because our suffering has opened our hearts to so much compassion. 

I am grateful Kinsley is feeling better and will have a nice Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

I will pray for her and believe for her the same way I have decided to pray and believe for myself: I will pray and beg and cry out to the Lord for healing and a miracle and believe He is able and will answer until the day comes when or if He says no and calls us home. 

I am so glad her life can have so much meaning and worldwide impact even though she is just four. 

Our days were numbered. 

Some have less days and are leaving a greater footprint on this earth than some who live to old age. 

Some had purpose and gave God glory with their little numbers than others did in a whole lifetime. 

What are my numbered days on earth compared to eternity?

I leave you with this poem;

I walked a mile with Pleasure;

She chattered all the way,

But left me none the wiser

For all she had to say

I walked a mile with Sorrow,

And not a word said she;

But oh, the things I learned from her

When Sorrow walked with me!

—Robert Browning Hamilton

A History of Pain

I'm sleeping.
My mind is in that half asleep half awake state where it knows it's sleeping.
I am dreaming of my days in Jafet, my youth group. I am hoping I don't wake up.
But then I hear a voice...
"You have to eat, baby; you haven't eaten in two days and you are declining." my mom says. She wants to take me to get hospitalized.
I'm fully awake now and the pain train arrived. It came rushing in voraciously to every corner of my body. Only when I am asleep I escape this reality of hurt that is now full on my reality.
"Why did you wake me?" I cry. "Why? I am in so much pain."
Mom rushes to the pharmacy to get some Ensure to make sure I at least get some nourishing.
I lay in bed not even able to cry. My eyes shed scales instead of tears and the skin around my eyes is burnt and cut.
I can't scream in pain either. My throat is damaged from throwing up and from the dehydration in my mouth and the burning in my esophagus from all the meds.
I'm terrified of eating. Everything I've eaten the past four days cramps my stomach adversely and sends me running for the toilet writhing in pain.
The pain is so unbearable my husband brings a hot water bag to put in my stomach every few hours. He always warns me of not putting it to my skin that hot, but I never listen. I already have burn marks on my belly.
I usually reject pain medicine and take it only when I can't stand it no longer. This time, I've been popping pain killers earlier than the recommended 6 hours. They help me go to sleep again.
I haven't seen the girls the past four days. I make an effort to lay in the hammock in the yard to at least see them play. Kaylee lays with me and falls asleep. Poor baby has missed her mom badly. Emmalee is happing asking me to watch her ride her big-girl bike.

I am so grateful my husband insisted on purchasing this hammcok
 a few days before my chemo round that left me broken.

The nanny moves Kaylee to her bed and my husband is massaging my legs.
I'm drifting back to sleep.
"Thank you, Lord. Make me sleep. Make me sleep as long as possible. Make the days go by asleep so I won't have to face my pain again."
It started raining. I feel some drops falling on me. If I say something, my husband will move me inside. I can't move. If I do, I lose the sleep spell. I lived this woken moments just to get back to this state; I can't lose it. I can't lose sleep's grip and relief from the nightmare that is being awake. The sleep spell wins and I fall asleep. "Thank heavens."
I wake up. The pain jerks me out of sleep.
"What time is it?" I ask hoping the day moved forward and it's closer to being over.
Turns out I only slept 20 minutes.
My heart sinks in dismay.
Mom and Rodol take me to the hospital to meet with the oncological surgeon to talk about my next surgeries.
The wheelchair ride is enough to leave me nauseated.
It feels like my insides are battling to become my outsides and I am a second away from bursting.
The hubs keeps massaging me while waiting for the doctor.
I want to scream and cry, but I can't.
I just utter a soft "Help me."
"Help you how?" my mom asks. "Do I take you to ER. What do I do?"
"Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me." I sound like a broken machine. I am a broken machine.
I fear the doctor will be late like all doctors are. The doctor arrives five minutes after that thought.
He is taking forever talking my medical history with my mom.
"Just give me something. Treat me! Treat me! Treat me!" I'm yelling in my mind.
Finally I let go an audible moan.
He listens and finally agrees to give me a pain patch for oncological patients.
"Thank God it's not something injected or intravenous."
I ask my mom to run to the hospital's drugstore to purchase it.
They didn't have it. Only special pharmacies carry it.
We go to one but the prescription the doctor gave us is incorrect.
It should be a special green form that authorizes such strong narcotics.
At this point I am telling my mom I am willing to try Marijuana.
The pharmacist knows my mom and can clearly see I am a cancer patient in desperate need of pain control. He agrees to sell it.
For such a "strong" narcotic, I was expecting relief. The pain no longer feels like it's going to kill me, but it is still there, the hurt.

To the Cross, Linda! You must take it to the Cross.

Isaiah 53:2-8

He grew up before him like a tender shoot,

and like a root out of dry ground.

He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,

nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

3 He was despised and rejected by mankind,

a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.

Like one from whom people hide their faces

he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

4 Surely he took up our pain

and bore our suffering,

yet we considered him punished by God,

stricken by him, and afflicted.

5 But he was pierced for our transgressions,

he was crushed for our iniquities;

the punishment that brought us peace was on him,

and by his wounds we are healed.

6 We all, like sheep, have gone astray,

each of us has turned to our own way;

and the Lord has laid on him

the iniquity of us all.

7 He was oppressed and afflicted,

yet he did not open his mouth;

he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,

and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,

so he did not open his mouth.

8 By oppression and judgment he was taken away.

Yet who of his generation protested?

For he was cut off from the land of the living;

for the transgression of my people he was punished.

When I was little I always wondered why God couldn't find another way to save us that didn't include Jesus suffering. I understand a little better now. Jesus not only knows what I am going through and has lived more pain than I have, He did so to understand me and really hold me. He did so for my sake. Oh beautiful Cross to run to!

Last night I was thinking how His mercies had been renewed in my day with such a day. 

Then I walked across the room and saw Emmalee sleeping soundly on her bed. Her blanket had fallen so I picked it up and tucked her in.

I walked towards Kaylee's bed. She is sleeping with all her hair in her face. I move it back to reveal a gorgeous, peaceful sleeping face. These are my mercies. I must seek them in dark days. 

I thought of the grieving Dad who lost his precious daughter. What are his new mercies from God each day? He was created to live in mercy, hope, and above all love. God's mercies to him sit next beside him in his living and also grieving wife that holds him. I pray he finds mercy, hope, and love in the memory of his precious, the hope of his Almighty, and the love of his wife and family. 

We can't live in pain. We learn to live through it, but we must strive to have mercy, hope, and love be what we live in. 

I pray your pain takes you to the Cross too.

Here is a video I made for my husband for our 6th anniversary. Excuse my recording ability. I had just had chemo and did this on Garageband on my ipad.

My heartbreak at the Third Chemo

It's time to update ya'll on my cancer progress.
I don't know why I've been avoiding this post.
It may have something to do with having to share of my heartbreak, which makes me relive it.
Anyway, here it goes.

Chemo session number 3 was brutal.
I attribute that to a few things:
1. Heartbreak
2. Anxiety
3. Bad diet and exercise (attributed to the heartbreak and anxiety)
4. No mental preparation.

One of the things I mostly pride myself during these past months of world-changing news and lifestyle was the fact that I, after battling for 30 years, had finally stopped biting my nails. I mean, I even stopped before losing Sammy and after cancer news, surgery, and first two chemo rounds.
Chemo number two was wonderful. The side effects were minimal. I got to share time with new friends, Nory and her daughters.
And then it all spiraled down so fast I found myself unable to control my urge to bite my nails during a barbecue at a friend's house infront of all my friends.

We had a terrible loss.
We had a rat visitng the garbage in our backyard. My father-in-law uses a deadly mice venom that attacks the nervous system which has no cure or antidote. He thought he controlled where the poisoned food was. He did not take into consideration where the rat would move this food.
Our dear Alee ate some and lost her life after a two day battle. I'm just happy Kaylee didn't put anything in her mouth. Can you imagine? I've since asked my FIL to change his methods to less dangerous. This is the second pet in his house to die of this reason.

At 1:00 am I woke up from her unusual barking.
I found her with my father-in-law trying to calm her. She was convulsing.
I begged him to take her to the doctor's. She came back at 2:00 am with a catheter to give her an inyection if she convulsed again.
It was reckles of me to care for her, but I couldn't stop thinking of my girls losing their beloved puppy. At 3:00 am she puked which made me really happy. After this, she started regaining strenght and even seemed normal. I cuddled her all night until at 6:00 am she convulsed again.
I rushed to wake my FIL to give her the shot. Emmalee woke up at around this hour when I came out of the shower.
"Go back to sleep, baby. It is still not time to wake up," I said.
"It's ok, mommy. You don't have to play with me. I'll just go outside to play with Alee," she replied.
My heart broke so badly.
"Alee is very sick, Honey."
I had never seen that worried look in her eyes.
"Is she throwing up?" she asked.
Poor thing still had her food poising fresh in her mind.
"Yes, baby. She is."
"I want to see her."
At this time, Kaylee also woke up and asked in her lovely toddler voice "Onsta Alee?" (Where's Alee).
I knew Alee was still sedated from the shot, so I took them both to where she lay and allowed them to pat her once.

At 8:00 am she was taken to the vet.
The vet said that if she didn't stop convulsing, he would have to sleep her. I asked him at 1:00 p,m how she was doing and he said she had convulsed two more times. He said that as long as she was sedated, she was not suffering and we could wait one more day.
I called the next day with no hope in my heart.
And then the doctor gave me great news: Alee had not convulsed since I had last called.
We could pick her up and bring her home.
I was so hopeful I brought Emmalee along to pick Alee at 1:00 pm.
At the doctor's office Emmalee did what she had always done when someone was near her precious puppy: She introduced her.
"This is my sister Alee," she would tell those entering the house with Alee jumping at them, and she did with the people on the vet's office too.
My heart was breaking more.

She loved her "sister"

The doctor instructed me to bathe her and try to get her to eat.
I gave her a warm bath and tried to feed her some chicken.
She wasn't having any, so I went to blend it to feed it with a syringe.
When I came back with the food, Alee started making a noise like a cry and threw up blood.
We rushed back to the vets. Emmalee was upset she couldn't come with.
The doctor said it was probably due to a med he had given her and gave her a countering shot.
I left feeling it was not the last time I would see Alee.
As I was leaving, she gave me this look like saying "Don't leave me." I hugged her and told her she'd be fine, that we were both going to fight and survive this.
I called at 5:00 pm and the doctor told me Alee had passed. Turns out that when I left, she couldn't breathe, so the doctor had to intubate her. When he did, she started spouting blood everywhere. She had severe internal bleeding and nothing could be done. She had died shortly after I had left.
I tried to explain her passing to the girls.
I sat them and told them their puppy was not coming back. They didn't understand.
Kaylee kept asking the following days "Onsta Alee" and Emmalee kept telling people her puppy was at the doctors, even though I kept explaining she was not and was not coming back, The girls didn't seem much affected.

It was until we went to my friend's barbecue that I knew how Emmalee felt. My friend Meli had a puppy that resembles Alee a little. Emmalee grabbed the puppy's blanket and put it around the puppy. She hugged her close to her face and whispered to the dog: "Don't eat anything bad. Don't throw up so you won't get ill like Alee."

The girls with Mely's dog October 2014

I went to the kitchen and cried my eyes out. After dinner, I couldn't help biting my nails despite my husband's complaints and demands of me stopping.

Around that time, Emmalee has been coming to my bed each morning asking me if I am sick.
I tell her I am, but that I will get better before her birthday.
To this she always gives the same reply: "And then we'll go to Panama?"
Sweet darling dreams of going to Panama. She can't see a plane go by without telling me that's how we'll go back to Panama.

I had a yeast infection, which both my oncologist and my gynecologist said would be common during my cancer treatment. I went to have it checked and used the opportunity to get a pap smear.
The test came back with an Atypical squamous cell (ASCUS) result. The gynecologist sent me the result via Whatsapp with a recommendation to get a colposcopy. I googled colposcopy and read it is biopsy to find if I have cervical cancer. I broke up in tears and panic. Crazy panic! I call my mom with desperate tone that left her worried sick. "Tell me where to go, which doctor?" I asked. She sent me the name of an oncologist-gynecologist and my husband rushed me there. I entered his office in tears. He tells me not to cry. He looks at my results and examines me. He tells me he has 30 years of experience and promises I do not have cervical cancer. He even says the ASCUS will probably go on its own and the other gynecologist should have never done the pap test with an active yeast infection. He is very reassuring, and I leave his office in peace after moments of complete despair. He will see me again before my fourth chemo to repeat the pap.

The lady at the public hospital that schedules the appointments had given me the wrong date for my appointment. The doctor's note said the appointment was for the 13th of June and she gave it on the 15th. The 15th was when I was supposed to have my chemo. Nothing could be done. I would have to go to the appointment on the 15th to get the prescriptions for the third chemo and have it moved one day to the 16th. When I got there the 15th a sign in my doctor's door read: Doctor Pineda incapacitated; go get a new appointment. I went to this heartless lady to ask what I could do. She said my doctor was sick and was giving appointments until the 20th. "What about my chemo? I should be getting chemo today!" I pleaded. "I can't do anything. Go ask oncology pharmacy," she replied as if I had told her I wasn't getting my flu med without even squinting.
I started crying and went to oncology pharmacy.
Normita, head of the pharmacy, told me not to cry because she would help me get my treatment. She checked my blood test and said I could receive chemo. She said she would get the prescriptions from another doctor and I could have my chemo right away. She even got me an appointment with this doctor so that she could write the prescriptions for my fourth chemo because it was unlikely that I would get an appointment with my doctor before that time.
I was not mentally prepared for chemo that day, though I was very happy I would not be delaying my treatment a single day.

The horror! This chemo round felt like fire in my veins. It stung badly. By the end I begged the nurses to let my husband in to tend for me. "Caress my head," I asked. He was caressing it with one hand while holding his phone with the other. "No Honey, put that thing down and caress me with both hands. My head is on fire."
The effect was immediate and relentless. For the first time since surgery we had to move the girls to sleep in my in-laws' room. My headaches and pain were so severe I was making the bed shake. When my husband couldn't find a way to comfort me or make me stop moaning and shaking, he hugged me tight and I could feel him crying.
After this, I got an infected abscessed toe for no reason, and a weird inflammation on my left arm. I thought it was lymphedema so I wore my arm compression sleeve. Turns out it wasn't lymphedema and the sleeve made the swelling worse.

I went to the oncologist-gynecologist appointment for the pap test. My mom was in town at this time and came along. He became very worried because my arm looks like bacterial cellulites. He told me I need to see an infectologist right away and I need to be on antibiotics for my toe as well. He won't be doing the pap test until I am better. He urged me to see my oncologist. I told him he is completely booked at the public hospital after his sick days but I was able to get an appointment with him at his private practice later that day. While he was talking to me, I asked my husband to go see if he can get an appointment with an infectologist in the same hospital ASAP. My husband was able to get me an appointment for 3 pm that day, but I have to be at the public hospital at that hour to see the new doctor to write my fourth chemo prescription. I begged her secretary if there was another time the doctor could see me, but she said no. I went back in with the onco-gyn who was doing a check up on my mom. When we come out, the secretary (bless her heart) rushes to meet me to tell me the infectologist will see me right away. He had finished with his morning patients early and wanted to help me out.

The infectologist happens to also have a dermatologist specialization so I beg him to treat my toe. He told me my toe was too swollen and the anesthesia would not hold and I would be in a lot of pain. I told him I didn't care; I was willing to withstand the pain. If that toe was not treated I wouldn't get chemo. He agreed to treat it. I asked Rodolfo to take off his belt so I can bite on it. I was glad I did. The anesthesia shot was terrible to endure. Mom said the doctor used plenty to spare me from the pain of draining the abscess. He did well as I felt no more pain as soon as the anesthesia's effect kicked in. He says my arm is not cellulites but an allergic reaction to a bug bite. He gives me prescriptions for antibiotics that will cover both my arm and toe.

After two doctor's appointment that day, I went to the public hospital to see the new doctor for my prescriptions for chemo #4. She was late to her afternoon appointments because one of her patients passed away. I was supposed to go in at 4 pm, but at that time she was on the patients of 3:00 pm. It's 5:00 pm and my appointment with my primary oncologist is at 6:00 pm. I beg the next patient to let me in as I am just going in to get prescriptions because she is not my treating doctor. He agrees (bless his heart) and lets me in. We make in time for my 6:00 pm appointment.

Dr. Pineda checks my blood work and my arm and toe. He says my arm was an allergic reaction but it could easily turn to cellulites. He tells me he wants to move my chemo two days back. I don't even argue with him. I did not feel mentally, emotionally, or physically ready for another round. The two days could get me closer. My heart was heavy; my body was broken. I was also able to tell him my BRCA 1 came back positive. He tells me when need not worry about that right now and I follow his advice.

It was such an exhausting day I barely held my head up to go with mom to my grandma's house to cut a cake for mom's birthday. Mom's birthday was the next day, but she was going back to Panama that day as well. She comes into my room in the morning. I am so beaten I can't hold my head up. She prays with me before she leaves for the airport. I barely get a "happy birthday" out before she is gone and I drift back to sleep. This was a Tuesday. Chemo #4 was on Friday.

I am happy to report Chemo #4 was almost as good as Chemo#2. I had minimal to cero side effects. I finished my last session with Doxorubicine and Ciclophosphamide, which possed the greatest threat to burning my arm if they permeated my veins. My right arm is aching terribly from the inside burns in my veins. I think I did better on Chemo#4 because I was mentally ready for chemo, had had more days to rest, and was recovering from lossing Alee. Also, I did more exercises and coupled it with better dieting. I will let you know of my diet in an upcoming post.

Thank you for reading my cancer journey. Thank you for keeping me in your prayers.
Please pray for a serious case of insomnia I'm experiencing right now.
Pray for tolerance to the new diet which has depravation symptoms.
Pray for some neuropathy symptoms I've been experiencing. These scare me because I will be starting my next four chemo sessions with Docetaxel and Carboplatin which are more toxic and produce more neurological side effects. These scare me the most as they take months after chemo to cure or can become permanent damage to my nervous system.
Pray for my cognitive function. I can barely think straight or remember anything.
Pray for my heart. I've been experiencing clinical depression due to being sleep deprived and from the never-ending fatigue. I am not taking meds for this as it is still not serious.
Thank you once more.

First Chemo and Miami Trip

So my mom called like two and half weeks ago to tell me she was coming to Honduras on May 20th because her employer agreed to let her work from home and even gifted her with the plane ticket. I tell her she should use that plane ticket for later because this is just the first chemo and the side effects will be mild, if there are any at all. Thank God she did come because there were side effects and if that is mild I understand better why mom felt she needed to be there and my doctors keep giving me warnings of what it'll be like.

My wonderful father was at the hospital at 4 am to make sure I was the first one in line to get chemo. Even getting that early, he was second in line. We got there at 5:30 and went inside at 6. They had told me chemo would only last for two hours, but it ended up being four hours and a half. I came out at 11:30 am. I was so happy to be sitting next to a triple negative breast cancer patient. I could finally feel there was someone talking to me who really understood me. It was really hard to see most of the patients were older people. The lady to my other side had finished her last chemo December the 4th. Her cancer came back exactly 4 monts later and she was there on her fourth chemo second time around. You could feel the sadness oozing from her. It was very hard to comfort her fearing her fate was mine. Luckily, there was an on-call psychologist that spent most of the time with her and other patients.

Side effects began exactly 72 hrs after chemo. among them where extreme fatigue, strong stomache, mild to strong but not severe headache, general body pain, nausea, and reflux. The worst part was the smell of chemo that was constantly in my mouth and nose, and I could swear even in my ears. The strongest chemo I am receiving right now has a red-orange color, and I was surprised to see I was still peeing orange 9-10 days after. How could that be in my system for so long? No wonder they do checks on my kidneys and liver. Poor filtering systems! I was so grateful my mom was here.

My husband has a childhood friend called Leonor. We have never met, but she follows me on Facebook and always likes all the pics I put of the girls. Her mom is also suffering from cancer and is in great need of a liver transplant. She is 25 years old and has been carrying the medical and financial bills for her mom and siblings since she was 18 years old. She is so brave and inspiring. Because she has done so much research and medical connections because of her mom, she got a lab to do the genetic test for 3500$. This girl who didn't know me at all had done so much to try to help me. We thought it over and reached the conclusion that with the test's discount we could afford to travel to Miami, make sure the blood sample wasn't tampered by sending it through DHL, and maybe get the chance to see an oncologist there and do connections for future clinical trials.

My dad very sacrificially gave me 1,500$ from his savings. My sister had sent 1,000$, which was almost 90% of two months worth of her salary. My aunt had gotten donations from my uncles, aunts, and cousins from the US and Honduras and gave me 2340$. It was amazing how we had raised enough money without having to burden my mom, who had already paid my surgery.

I contacted many hospitals to try to get an appointment with an oncologist and only Memorial Cancer Institute was willing to help us get an appointment, but we had to give her my medical records, which in this third world country I get in physical and not digital form, wednesday before 5pm. Our plane arrived at 3:40pm, and because I was on a wheel chair, we were able to get out at 4pm. We called Victoria, from Memorial, saying we would't make it before 5 and she agreed to wait until 5;30. We made it there at 5;10!

On thursday we went to get the genetic panel done, which included the BRCA 1 and 2 I needed, and even a more comprehensive genetic testing for other known genes for breast cancer. The doctor was wonderful. He told us he was also a cancer survivor and even shared his cancer story with me. He shared even the alternative medicine research he has done and gave us a prescription for some of these dietary supplements and vitamins. Victoria called us that afternoon to tell us we got an appointment friday at 1.

I was stunned. It was not a hospital building. It was not a cancer building. It was a breast cancer center building. Amazing! The doctor was so incredibly nice. He told me he had been studying the day before my case and spent the night debating my treatment. He came to the conclusion that he thoroughly agreed with the chemotherapy regiment my Honduran doctor is giving me. He was debating because the sessions, dosage, and time between sessions was above the standard care and very aggressive. He was positive it was the best fighting chance for me because of my cancer type and my age would help me withstand the treatment. He did clarify that I would need radiotherapy, which is something to look into because I don't think I can get that done in the public hospital, and he prescribed 33 radiotherapy sessions for six weeks, with a daily session monday through friday. He said that he was 95% certain my genetic test would come back negative, and it was a good thing to have it done to be 100% sure and know if my daughters were in danger and if I need to do a bilateral mastectomy and ooforectomy (removal of ovaries and phalopian tubes). Then he mentioned something of my future children and at that moment I interrupted him and said "What??" And he said "yeah, if you aren't done having children..." And then I interrupted him again. "What are you talking about? I can have more children?". At this point I burst into tears. I even made his nurse burst into tears. "I was definitely not done having children." He said that if the genetic test is negative there is no reason for me not to have more children. He made it clear that my pregnancy had nothing to with my cancer, except maybe the sadness the miscarriage gave me that dropped my immune system and helped the cancer spread. This is why he tells me this battle is a battle of the mind, something I tell him everyone tells me. He says I need to keep positive. He says that I have a 70% chance of being cured with just the surgery, chemo will bring me to 90%, and radio to 95%. He is certain I will be cured. He told me that for the next six months I am a cancer patient, but once I am done I will be a cancer survivor and I need to see myself as such. No thinking in recurrence or reading anything more. I told him it would be hard for me to consider becoming a mom again as my greatest fear is orphaning the children I already have. He said that the good thing about my cancer is that if it doesn't recur in two years, the chances of recurring drastically drop, and if there is no recurrence in five years, I am cancer free for the rest of my life. In five years, you are 35, so why not the kids my heart desires?

I tell you, I left that office feeling uplifted. He told me there weren't any clinical trials I could participate in because my cancer is not considered metastasic yet. But he told me that the chemo I am receiving, paired with the Carboplatin (one of the 4 chemos I am receiving) is already a clinical trial in itself and my chemo regiment is 5 years ahead of it's time. Imagine hearing that of the treatment I am receiving in Honduras in the public hospital?!!! How wonderful! We got answers, we got hope of things I had already given up hope, and a positive outlook. The nurse that called us had even said the appointment would cost 500$. God's grace was with us at all times that when the recepcionist charged my mom 100$ she started crying and made the receptionist cry too.

We got to share a lot of time with Leonor. We even said she is our new baby sister. She had such a special connection with my mom. With all the burden she has had to carry alone, we were happy to meet her, make her part of our family, and get to share with her in the future. She treated us to dinner and drove us all over Miami. She had to leave on friday to Nicaragua to an emergency surgery for her brother and insisted she left her car at our disposal.
We slept the first two nights there with Tia Sara's sister Sara (yeah, they are both called Sara). She and her husband were kind enough to receive us in their home even if we hadn't met and were gracious hosts.
We got to spend the remaining of our time in Miami with Diane, a good friend of my mom. It was awesome to share time with her. She has been mourning the passing of her husband, and we were so happy to share with her and comfort her. I even felt blessed if my cancer could uplift her in the beauty of life. She cooked for us and took us to dinner. It was so amazing the people, doctors, nurses, everyone we encountered. God was felt at every step.

Here are a few pictures of our time there:

Pictures of downtown Miami after the genetic test

We went to La Boulangerie, a cafe we walked to to have lunch and wait for Leo to pick us up after the genetic test. It was a great one on one with mom I hadn't had in years.

Leo treating us to Latin American restaurant.

Diane treating us to Brio, Tuscan grill

First time at Chick-fil-A with Diane

Diane's pancakes, with strawberries and blueberries

Mom and me at Diane's ranch

A view of the ranch and Diane's dog Emely. If I ever visit with the girls, which we hope to do so one day, there will be confusion with Emely and Emmalee. XD

She is a sweetheart.

My head was starting to feel sensitive with a little pain, so we went ahead with shaving my head before it got too sensitive and shaving got too painful. There was a specific area that was already very sensible and I shed a couple of tears. My darling husband who still looks dashingly handsome went ahead and shaved his. The girls had no problem with mom and dad's shaved heads.

Lovely family. My mother-in-love had a fall last Saturday and has been in a lot of pain. Please include her in your prayers.