A Leap Of Faith
It's yours, take it. Leap like a lunatic over the chasm below. Your true self awaits you, NOW you will know.
I had a follow up-follow up appointment with my radiation oncologist on Tuesday morning to get the results of my CT scan from the week before, because he wanted to adjust my steroids if there was no bleeding in the brain.
His nurse was even friendlier than usual towards me when I got there, which, having been here in this place of scanxiety before, made me wonder if they had bad news for me.
The doctor came in seeming very excited and chipper and asked how I was feeling. I told him about the rib pain I'm having - probably from coughing (cold came back), and all the vomiting from before didn't help I'm sure. He decided to send me for a bone scan just to make sure there's nothing nasty lurking.
Then he wheeled his stool over next to Jim and said, "I have the scan results from last week", he opened my file to the page and started showing Jim the results. I was a bit numb, because that's how mel gets you, you condition yourself to expect the worst. What the doctor was saying wasn't really sinking in with me even though I could hear the words.
Here it is:
As of November 1st 2006, I was told that I had three lesions in my brain, a 3.3cm, a 2.9cm and a 1.8cm, as well as vastly disseminate seeding of tiny lesions throughout my brain too small to measure.
That's when they gave me the three month prognosis.
As of the scan I had last week, the 3.3cm lesion has shrunk to 1.6cm, the 2.9cm one to 1.2cm and the 1.8cm one has shrunk down to being so small they can't measure it. Most of the seeding of tiny lesions throughout my brain is no longer visible.
So those 22 days of WBR and further 8 days of reduced field therapy really paid off, even though it was hard at the time. While you're taking these treatments, it's a real leap of faith, if you like. Because you feel like hell and have no idea if it's even going to work, but you do it anyway.
A leap of faith. Like when I was a child standing at the edge of the swimming pool, with my dad in the water telling me to jump in and that he'd catch me. So I jumped, as high and hard as I could, because I was a daddy's girl. And in that moment, that few seconds of freefall before my body hit the water, I experienced that same feeling of placing myself totally in someone else's hands, not really knowing if they'd be able to stop me falling, from going under.
Just hoping.
Right at the start of this whole brain episode, I decided to put myself completely in this doctor's hands and not second-guess him, which is quite alien to my nature. But upon that first meeting with him, when I was so sick and my survival was so questionable, he was the one who gave me that hope.
Yes, he gave me a horrible prognosis. But then he started to tell me about what he thought he could do if we were aggressive enough. He told me about success stories he's had with patients in the past, he told me that he thought I had what it took to pull through this. Good strong oil and good strong water (that still makes me smile). He gave me that hope.
And I jumped. Like that skinny little redheaded girl by the pool, I jumped. And the fall was endless, and I had no idea if anyone would be there to catch me, but I held on tight anyway. I kept the faith, held onto the hope, even though the odds looked so hopeless just a couple of short months ago. The fall was infinite.
And then suddenly, this week, it was like hitting the water and feeling my dad's arms closing around me and hearing him laughing and saying, "Good girl!" And then lifting me onto his shoulders which always felt like the safest place in the world to me.
The Doctor must be used to giving this sort of news, he included me in the conversation, but addressed himself to Jim, I think he could see my numbness and I think it was probably a completely normal reaction on my part. As he was talking, he'd keep looking at me and all I could say was, "Okay... okay..." I simply didn't know what to do with the news, which is better than we could have hoped to hear so early after the therapy.
But there's more. Not content with just watching and waiting now, Dr Aggressive (as he shall now be known) is going to be performing Gamma Knife radiosurgery on the remaining two shrunken lesions (and he says, anything else he feels might need it), because melanoma is so resistent to radiation that he doesn't want to take any chances.
Me? I'm with him all the way. Jump off a cliff? Sure... be right there.
So I didn't really know what to do with myself after the appointment on Tuesday morning. I heard the news and understood it, but couldn't quite get my head around it. I don't think it really set in until that evening. I sat and looked at Jim (you should see him, this is the first time he hasn't looked exhausted and terrified since the end of October) and just smiled. Yeah. It's real. I can relax just a bit, loosen my grip, just a tad and bask in this moment of happiness for a while.
I'll be looking at my scan results next week and I know I'm not out of the woods yet, but the fact remains that had we not been able to control the brain, I'd be much, much deeper in the woods than I am right now.
Next week can take care of itself.
It's funny what family becomes when you have cancer. My dad died when I was a teenager and since my diagnosis, I think about him every day, all the time. I was pretty angry, I think, about how he died and that I never got a chance to see him one last time, to say goodbye. Now I sort of feel as though he's watching over me like a guardian angel or something. I know this is a little whimsical, but sometimes, when things are bad and it's 3am and I'm awake, but trying not to think, it's like I can feel his arms go around me, smell the scent of the soap he used, hear him chuckle as he ruffles my hair. It's just my imagination, I know, but it's so comforting. I like to think he's close by anyway.
It's my life and my cancer, I'm allowed to be a bit off the wall if I want. :)
On the other end of the spectrum, I haven't spoken to my mother since early December. I could be dead and she wouldn't know. I've given up on calling her. It was always me doing the calling, telling the updates and to be honest, the conversations were disappointing. She gives me nothing and I am past the point where I have anything for her. Speaking to her just leaves me feeling alone and resentful, I no longer wish to deal with that.
I've tried. Especially since the brain issues. Mainly because I didn't want her to see her only daughter die and regret not having had a better relationship. However it seems that she doesn't want a better relationship, so I have to let her go. She'll manage to lie to herself and convince herself that she was there for me and that I was the problem. It's how she operates. The only thing I ever learned from my mother was how NOT to be.
It hurts me so much though, that my children don't have the support of their grandmother as they travel this road with me. That part hurts more than the fact that she couldn't give a rat's arse about me.
I had a funny (not ha-ha either) conversation with my aunt a few weeks ago. She called up out of nowhere - I haven't spoken to her since I've had cancer. She wants to come and visit, but she has to wait and see when my mother can come. I told her why wait? She said that she doesn't want to interfere. Interfere in what? I told her that at the beginning of November I'd been given a three month prognosis, so she might not want to wait too long and there was no way my mother wanted to come and see me anyway.
Her response to the three month thing? "So when will that be?" Like she wanted the exact date.
I've never really known how to use the word nonplussed before that moment.
It's a good thing I have a sense of humor!
But anyway, things have been said about me back home, between these people who are supposed to love me. I tried to broach the subject a couple of times and my aunt just told me that she 'didn't want to get involved in all that'. Get involved in all what? The fact is, my mother has serious issues and has never forgiven me for taking my kids and moving to the USA.
Frankly, I'm done with the lot of them. They bring absolutely nothing to my life. I don't want them to invite themselves to my home for a mini-vacation (let's face it, they really only want to see my kids, my aunt whined on at length about how her life hasn't been the same since we left).
There's no love for me there. Sometimes you've just got to move on. And really, these people have too many issues of their own for me to really think they'd have any sort of positive effect on my kids. Best to just walk away. Once you have cancer, other losses become easier to deal with... this is what I must do.
Not sure where all that came from, I think it's just something else I wanted to write down for posterity. Now it's 'on paper' and out of my head. I have better things to worry about than those people, maybe this is me finally letting go for good, seeing it in writing makes it feel more real.
Enough. ENOUGH of the negative BS my family always brings with them.
This week... today and tomorrow on our 'anniversary'... we have so much to celebrate!!
I'm feeling pretty lucky right now, I have to tell you.
Once again, to all of you who write and otherwise support me, thank you. We're still standing, in fact this week, we're standing better than ever.
I had a follow up-follow up appointment with my radiation oncologist on Tuesday morning to get the results of my CT scan from the week before, because he wanted to adjust my steroids if there was no bleeding in the brain.
His nurse was even friendlier than usual towards me when I got there, which, having been here in this place of scanxiety before, made me wonder if they had bad news for me.
The doctor came in seeming very excited and chipper and asked how I was feeling. I told him about the rib pain I'm having - probably from coughing (cold came back), and all the vomiting from before didn't help I'm sure. He decided to send me for a bone scan just to make sure there's nothing nasty lurking.
Then he wheeled his stool over next to Jim and said, "I have the scan results from last week", he opened my file to the page and started showing Jim the results. I was a bit numb, because that's how mel gets you, you condition yourself to expect the worst. What the doctor was saying wasn't really sinking in with me even though I could hear the words.
Here it is:
As of November 1st 2006, I was told that I had three lesions in my brain, a 3.3cm, a 2.9cm and a 1.8cm, as well as vastly disseminate seeding of tiny lesions throughout my brain too small to measure.
That's when they gave me the three month prognosis.
As of the scan I had last week, the 3.3cm lesion has shrunk to 1.6cm, the 2.9cm one to 1.2cm and the 1.8cm one has shrunk down to being so small they can't measure it. Most of the seeding of tiny lesions throughout my brain is no longer visible.
So those 22 days of WBR and further 8 days of reduced field therapy really paid off, even though it was hard at the time. While you're taking these treatments, it's a real leap of faith, if you like. Because you feel like hell and have no idea if it's even going to work, but you do it anyway.
A leap of faith. Like when I was a child standing at the edge of the swimming pool, with my dad in the water telling me to jump in and that he'd catch me. So I jumped, as high and hard as I could, because I was a daddy's girl. And in that moment, that few seconds of freefall before my body hit the water, I experienced that same feeling of placing myself totally in someone else's hands, not really knowing if they'd be able to stop me falling, from going under.
Just hoping.
Right at the start of this whole brain episode, I decided to put myself completely in this doctor's hands and not second-guess him, which is quite alien to my nature. But upon that first meeting with him, when I was so sick and my survival was so questionable, he was the one who gave me that hope.
Yes, he gave me a horrible prognosis. But then he started to tell me about what he thought he could do if we were aggressive enough. He told me about success stories he's had with patients in the past, he told me that he thought I had what it took to pull through this. Good strong oil and good strong water (that still makes me smile). He gave me that hope.
And I jumped. Like that skinny little redheaded girl by the pool, I jumped. And the fall was endless, and I had no idea if anyone would be there to catch me, but I held on tight anyway. I kept the faith, held onto the hope, even though the odds looked so hopeless just a couple of short months ago. The fall was infinite.
And then suddenly, this week, it was like hitting the water and feeling my dad's arms closing around me and hearing him laughing and saying, "Good girl!" And then lifting me onto his shoulders which always felt like the safest place in the world to me.
The Doctor must be used to giving this sort of news, he included me in the conversation, but addressed himself to Jim, I think he could see my numbness and I think it was probably a completely normal reaction on my part. As he was talking, he'd keep looking at me and all I could say was, "Okay... okay..." I simply didn't know what to do with the news, which is better than we could have hoped to hear so early after the therapy.
But there's more. Not content with just watching and waiting now, Dr Aggressive (as he shall now be known) is going to be performing Gamma Knife radiosurgery on the remaining two shrunken lesions (and he says, anything else he feels might need it), because melanoma is so resistent to radiation that he doesn't want to take any chances.
Me? I'm with him all the way. Jump off a cliff? Sure... be right there.
So I didn't really know what to do with myself after the appointment on Tuesday morning. I heard the news and understood it, but couldn't quite get my head around it. I don't think it really set in until that evening. I sat and looked at Jim (you should see him, this is the first time he hasn't looked exhausted and terrified since the end of October) and just smiled. Yeah. It's real. I can relax just a bit, loosen my grip, just a tad and bask in this moment of happiness for a while.
I'll be looking at my scan results next week and I know I'm not out of the woods yet, but the fact remains that had we not been able to control the brain, I'd be much, much deeper in the woods than I am right now.
Next week can take care of itself.
It's funny what family becomes when you have cancer. My dad died when I was a teenager and since my diagnosis, I think about him every day, all the time. I was pretty angry, I think, about how he died and that I never got a chance to see him one last time, to say goodbye. Now I sort of feel as though he's watching over me like a guardian angel or something. I know this is a little whimsical, but sometimes, when things are bad and it's 3am and I'm awake, but trying not to think, it's like I can feel his arms go around me, smell the scent of the soap he used, hear him chuckle as he ruffles my hair. It's just my imagination, I know, but it's so comforting. I like to think he's close by anyway.
It's my life and my cancer, I'm allowed to be a bit off the wall if I want. :)
On the other end of the spectrum, I haven't spoken to my mother since early December. I could be dead and she wouldn't know. I've given up on calling her. It was always me doing the calling, telling the updates and to be honest, the conversations were disappointing. She gives me nothing and I am past the point where I have anything for her. Speaking to her just leaves me feeling alone and resentful, I no longer wish to deal with that.
I've tried. Especially since the brain issues. Mainly because I didn't want her to see her only daughter die and regret not having had a better relationship. However it seems that she doesn't want a better relationship, so I have to let her go. She'll manage to lie to herself and convince herself that she was there for me and that I was the problem. It's how she operates. The only thing I ever learned from my mother was how NOT to be.
It hurts me so much though, that my children don't have the support of their grandmother as they travel this road with me. That part hurts more than the fact that she couldn't give a rat's arse about me.
I had a funny (not ha-ha either) conversation with my aunt a few weeks ago. She called up out of nowhere - I haven't spoken to her since I've had cancer. She wants to come and visit, but she has to wait and see when my mother can come. I told her why wait? She said that she doesn't want to interfere. Interfere in what? I told her that at the beginning of November I'd been given a three month prognosis, so she might not want to wait too long and there was no way my mother wanted to come and see me anyway.
Her response to the three month thing? "So when will that be?" Like she wanted the exact date.
I've never really known how to use the word nonplussed before that moment.
It's a good thing I have a sense of humor!
But anyway, things have been said about me back home, between these people who are supposed to love me. I tried to broach the subject a couple of times and my aunt just told me that she 'didn't want to get involved in all that'. Get involved in all what? The fact is, my mother has serious issues and has never forgiven me for taking my kids and moving to the USA.
Frankly, I'm done with the lot of them. They bring absolutely nothing to my life. I don't want them to invite themselves to my home for a mini-vacation (let's face it, they really only want to see my kids, my aunt whined on at length about how her life hasn't been the same since we left).
There's no love for me there. Sometimes you've just got to move on. And really, these people have too many issues of their own for me to really think they'd have any sort of positive effect on my kids. Best to just walk away. Once you have cancer, other losses become easier to deal with... this is what I must do.
Not sure where all that came from, I think it's just something else I wanted to write down for posterity. Now it's 'on paper' and out of my head. I have better things to worry about than those people, maybe this is me finally letting go for good, seeing it in writing makes it feel more real.
Enough. ENOUGH of the negative BS my family always brings with them.
This week... today and tomorrow on our 'anniversary'... we have so much to celebrate!!
I'm feeling pretty lucky right now, I have to tell you.
Once again, to all of you who write and otherwise support me, thank you. We're still standing, in fact this week, we're standing better than ever.
posted by Heather at 8:55 AM
61 Comments:
Heather.....{{{{{{Big Hugs}}}}}}, the news is fantastic! All of your hard work & suffering has paid off.
I'm really sorry that your own family doesn't give you support. Does Jim's family support you? Is there any grandparents around for the kids? You do know all of your online family gives you alot of support and love. We are behind you 100%!!
~I
Heather, that is great news! Just fabulous! I am giving you a great BIG (((HUG)))! You'd better give Dr. Aggressive a great big hug, too. Everyone should have a doctor like that. One that inspires hope, and CARES!
As for the family part.... well, it just sucks. Mom's are supposed to be there, NO MATTER WHAT! Unfortunately, we can't pick and choose our family. Take the positive, and throw out everything else, you don't need the negative BS. I have a sister that lives in the same city, and I see her only at Christmas. (And I cringe thinking about it!)
I am so happy for you. My heart did a little leap in my chest when I read your post on the MPIP. And again, just now, when I read your blog. I've been checking in, frequently, looking for an update.
You are so strong and courageous! I am totally inspired by your strength and your character. You are truly amazing!
I hope you continue to receive the best of news. Keep us posted!
Best of Luck!
melissa
(mlittle)
Hi Heather, you dont know me but I have logged in regularly to read your blog and your world has really touched mine. Im sitting here crying tears of joy for you at your news. Sending you hugs and love from across the ocean - you go girl!!
Heather, you're not just standing. You're OUTSTANDING. Enjoy your anniversary. Savor your good news. Let go of your mom and aunt. Keep a firm grip on Dr. Aggressive. Grab some chocolate. Love, Marilyn
Gosh, I really wish I had your strength. Are you selling any of it? I mean, how you have dealt with everything, your beautiful children and husband, this horrific disease, and ofcourse, your (outside)family. Although I have not lived directly in your shoes, I can relate and understand. I am in awe. Literally.
Janette from Holland (p.s: Good on ya)
Heather,
I live in Atlanta and had metastatic melanoma in my brain last Feb removed. No other lesions and I have been scanned every three months since. I just recently got scanned last week (MRI brain and CT's of the rest of my body) I'm 46, very optomistic and owe my life to christ. Just a few other facts you might want to know: I had chemo (temodar) for 7 months, gamma knife radiation on the area they resected and I have been taking quite the diet of supplements and herbs (much to the chagrin of my doc). I would be happy to supply you with this list which includes the latest info on each supplement. Some of them I feel have been significant to preventing the recurrance although we'll never know for sure.Diet has also played a huge roll. I completely cut out sugar, partially hydrogenated oils and refined flour. I have gone as organic as I can, juicing, and basically eating natures harvest. I will tell you that I ocassionaly go for ice cream with the kids and eat a burrito with co-workers. I have read so many blogs on folks like us who have beat the odds including a german guy who was diagnosed with many brain mets (melanoma) and given a year to live. that was back in 1987. Who'd have thought that? I would like to give you a website to visit which will knock you sideways. I came across (while googling melanoma) the story of David Sumrell. A true miracle if there ever was one. This guy had melanoma all over his body. It started in his eye and moved to his lymph nodes, lungs, liver, kidney, brain, ect. Duke Univ hospital sent him home telling him there was nothing they could do for him. Even to sick for experimental treatment. Long story short he never had chemo or radiation and the tumors disappeared completely from his body. He made a promise to God that he would write 3 books. You can read more about him at http://www.faithnews.cc/articles.cfm?sid=7446 or also at http://www.ebookstand.com/books.grp/BR2038.html
I actually got a chance to meet him when he was passing thru Atlanta last Wednesday. A true gentlemen and walking miracle.
Let me know if you would like a copy of the supplements that I am taking.
Good luck
Lee
As my girlfriend from the south would say: what a sweet-faced child!
Ah, Heather, your good news is still ringing in my ears, making my day, giving me hope for all of us living with melanoma.
I love Dr. Aggressive. NOt to be confused with Dr. McSteamy et al. Your news on MPIP made me smile; your entry here brought the usual tears to my eyes...and your little girl photo touched my heart so much.
Thank you, again, for spelling it all out, the way we think we would think, what we wish we would say, how we would want to "be" if we had to deal with the situation you are living. Your personality and character shine, and seeing that sweet-face child that grew into YOU, that expression on your little face..... the best, Heather, just the best, just like you. Your dad must have been crazy about you, loved you to pieces, as Jim loves you now. Hugs to you and yours.
Love,
CarolA
PLEASE PRAY FOR HEATHER!! Jim has posted this on another forum, I hope it's ok to forward everyone who cares about her this message, they need all the prayers they can get:
Posted by Jim, her husband:
Yesterday Heather had a series of seizures and I had to call an ambulance to get her to the emergency room. Fortunately this happened after I got home from work, and the paramedics arrived very quickly. I kept her from choking, but she had another seizure as they got her outside, and another one on the way to the ER.
She has been stabilized, but she is in a drug-induced coma now, and I haven't been able to communicate with her since just before her attack. I don't know when they are going to try and bring her out of it
Hi Heather,
I was so pleased with your good news. You deserve it and more! I am also happy that you have such a supportive doctor.
The imagery you used in this post was great. I love your blog. You are as ever in my thoughts. Love, Carver
Hang in there! We're all Praying for you.
Hang in there Heather.YOU will get thru this! YOU are amazing!
Martine
You are a true inspiraton and I am so sorry your own family can't be there for you but know that many, many others are always there in cyberspace. comforting, I know, but not as comforting as your own family. Inspiring, yes, indeed, strong, tough, there just aren't enough words to describe you..but, you have it all. Keep writing.
Heather,
I am praying for strength and courage for you and your family. This is such a rotten, cruel beast but know that you are so VERY LOVED by people all over the world. You are such an inspiration to us all. Keep fighting the good fight.
K
If someone can fight this - It has to bee you! Hang in there - and keep on fighting. Thinking of you.
My prayers and toughts are with you and your family.
Anna
UPDATE FROM JIM:
1/21/07 1:30PM
I just got back from the hospital... imagine my surprise to walk in and see her AWAKE!
Yes, they pulled her out of it, and removed the tubes from her throat and nose. She is still VERY groggy from the drugs but during the time I was there I saw her coming around more and more. She really IS tough, and never stopped fighting.
She didn't know where she was, or why, but the important thing is that she seems to be doing very well. They are going to have to adjust her meds because either the anti-seizure meds are not as effective or the level was too low. This is all related to the swelling post-radiation treatment. No one said it would be easy.
The ICU has limited visitation hours, but I'm going back in a couple of hours with the kids. We can't wait to get her home again; when that will be has yet to be determined.
I'll keep everyone posted. It's apparent that the prayers have worked. Hopefully she will be able to be back soon to give her own account of this. We're not out of the woods yet.
Heather. I am SOO happy to read your message today. That is fantastic news. SOOO great. I am familiar with gamma knife from a medical stand-point (working in MRI), not from my melanoma standpoint. I think you will be just fine, and back to 'normal' real quick. Thank you for being such an inspiration to a lot of people. I hope this message will find you out of the hospital and doing well. Thanking you, and always thinking of you.. ~S
Thats's good news Jim. Thankyou for keeping us informed. I know ther's a lot of people all over the world following Heather, she's such an inspiration to us all! Never give up, never giv in - thath's our Heather - still standing!
Regards Anna in Norway
Heather, I know you'll be well enough to read this very soon, you're so strong. We on arf are all behind you, you've got so many friends there. We miss your witty posts! I wanted to show my support, my husband passed in 2001 from a grade iv glioblastoma. I love the fact that you're being agressive and not taking anything for granted. I'm not a "prayer" person, but I am sending lots of white light and good thoughts your way. Please get better soon, and tons of hugs to you and your family. We really miss you. Keep up the awesome work!
Daisywench ... ar15.com
Heather hurry back and post for us. I know you will make it!
Heather,
I know you're gonna pull thru this one too!
So many people love you just from the wee part of yourself you've shared. I hope you can feel our collective embrace and find some comfort in its warmth.
You are missed and thought of all the time.
luv sarah
Heather...
I love you even though we've never met. I have been reading your blog since New Year's Eve...I found it while searching for answers and info on mel. What a blessing it was to find you. I have gained insight and strength from your story. For that I will be eternally grateful.
You are an amazing woman who has touched me deeply. I have had some close calls with mel and have a son who is only a few months younger than Jaime. We have so many things in common...Your sense of humor reminds me of the women in my family. I am sending positive thoughts and prayers from California. I can't wait to hear from you agsin soon.
Love,
Allie
Heather,
I cried with joy to hear the wonderful news about your scan results and when I went to comment on that I saw the message about you being in the hospital. So many people care about you and are praying for you. It has been over a week since you last posted and I hope you are doing much better now and are out of the hospital. Your strength shines through all the time!
Erica
Congratulations girl! You deserve all the awesome news!
Heather, Jim, This is Pecos. Our prayers are with you, and as soon as I can get ahold of Mata, I see if she can get on here and 'speak' to y'all as well.
God bless.
Hope you're enjoying being home and doing okay
Cxx
Dear Heather,
I hope that you are recovering quickly and are able to have some good times with your family. You have been through so much and remain in my thoughts and prayers. Love, Carver
Heather,
How are you doing? I hope that this has been a healing time for you. It has been a very long time since you have posted. You are always in our prayers. Please write as soon as you are able.
2/21/07
I'm sorry to say that Heather still isn't up to posting. I'm with her nearly every minute, but the meds make it so hard for her to fight her fight.
We are starting a new cycle of chemo tonight (2-27-07), and hopefully this will have a positive effect. Any prayers are welcomed.
Thanks, everyone, for your care and support.
Jim
Tanks for the Info Jim. You are all in my toughts. Heather is a big inspiration to me, I've learned a lot from her spirit and courage.
I know there's a lot of people checking Heathers blogg for info - they are all thinking of you, Heather and the children
Hope The chemo will do good...very good !
Love Anna
Jim,
Thank you for updating us on your wife's struggle although it's got to be so hard for you too. My thoughts and prayers are with Heather and your family. Be strong for Heather, help her fight.
Hi jim!
thank you so much for the update! i know heather is too unwell to post but was wondering if she was up to giving you the password to her blog so you can keep us updated. there are sooooo many people care for heather so deeply in cyberspace. of course, this is a lot to ask of you at this time, but i just needed to throw that thought out there.
my hugs go out to heather, she is my inspiration and helps me get thru my days as a stage 4 patient.
my heart goes out to you and the children. jim, you truly are heather's angel and a real hero.
sarah
Heather is not doing to well. Hospice has been called in and she is now on oxygen. She is unable to swallow any meds and is very week. Most of the time she is sleeping and when she is awake she is not very coherent. Jim her husband stated that she is begining to slip away.
This is a young family with 4 children (ages 2yrs-17yrs) They need us to rally around and support them BIG TIME! Jim, her husband is having a very difficult time accepting things.
Heather, I'm so sorry you died this morning. I was so hoping you would still write on your blog one more time. RIP Red head.
Heather you will continue to Live STRONG in our hearts and memories. At least now you are no longer in pain. Thank you for being example of strength, courage and hope. My heartfelf condolences to your family.
I'm so sorry, Heather, that was so quick. It was just yesterday that Jim has said Hospice was coming in and now I hear you passed this morning. At least your family didn't have to watch you suffer more.
Heather~ I know you fought this battle with everything you had. Finally you just had to give up, give yourself to the Lord. You are an inspiration to everyone that has read your blog, or mpip. Fly high, Heather. Be pain-free, worry-free.
Oh no!
I just heard, Jim.
We've been reading Heather's blog, and sort of growing more and more grave as the updates were fewer and fewer, and then tougher and tougher.
Heather used her blog to teach. She taught us all to love more deeply, to live more fully, to believe more devoutly, and fight more bravely. Her pain, I am sure, got terrible in the end and for that, let us thank G_d for a sweet release, for freedom from the pain. The cost of Heather's relief is in the pain we now feel at her passing.
Good luck to you and your family in this difficult time. DO not forget to rely on the help of your friends, and even of us strangers, who knew your family only through the words of your dearly departed.
Warmly,
Brian in Colorado
Anonymous said...
Heather~ I know you fought this battle with everything you had. Finally you just had to give up, give yourself to the Lord. You are an inspiration to everyone that has read your blog, or mpip. Fly high, Heather. Be pain-free, worry-free.
From reading Heather's readings, she didn't believe in God. Sad.
Actually, Heather DID believe in God. She came to doubt her faith at times, and was angry with Him for letting this happen. I told her that I knew that she believed in Him, and that I knew because of her constant reference to Him. She was faithful until the end, and now she is with Him.
Heather was a member of the Church of England.
She will be missed by all who knew her, both virtually and personally, and by her family who loved her so dearly.
A part of me died with her today.
Rest in Peace, Sweetheart.
Heather April 8, 1968- March 2, 2007
Jim
Jim, my heart is broken. If anyone could have beaten this thing, it was Heather. She gave mel a real run for his money. I saw the news this morning on the MPIP, but I chose to ignore it, hoping that I would return this evening and find that it was a mistake. Right now I just feel numb. I wish I could be eloquent right now and say just the right thing. Heather always knew what to say. Every time I read an update on her blog I would find myself wondering how she could be so insightful.
I am so sorry, Jim. My thoughts are with you and your children as you begin this first night without your beloved.
Heather was a beacon, whose warm rays touched the hearts of many you have never met. I will never forget her.
melissa
Jim,
Can you let us know if she suffered near the end? I hope not because she gave so much to so many people.
Thanks,
martine
She went so fast, I don't think she suffered at all. It's good Hospice didn't have to be there hardly at all. So sad.
Jim, will you look for a new wife now? How can you do all that yourself? I hope you find happiness again.
Heather did not suffer at the end. She went peacefully, her breaths getting slower and slower until she finally expired as I held her hand and told her that I loved her.
I wasn't looking for a wife when I found her, and I won't be looking now, either. It was just one of those things... it almost seemed predestined that we would be together. The thing is, when you love someone as much as I loved Heather, it hurts so much more when they ultimately leave, and you know that you'll never see them again in this world. When we made our vows, neither of us thought it would end like this.
"... In sickness and in health; 'til death do us part."
Sorry... I loved her more than I ever thought possible. I know, too, that this feeling was mutual.
Jim
Jim,
You two were soul mates.You had what so few in this world have.It will be difficult for awhile.Take the time to grieve but don't be afraid to let yourelf be happy again one day because that's what your soul mate would have wanted. I'm glad she did not suffer.Thanks for letting us know.
Take care,
Martine
Jim,
Heather fought as long and hard as she could- not for herself alone, but for you and the kids. She loved, and STILL loves you all with all of her soul. She is not gone either. You will see little bits of her for the rest of your life too, until you are all reuinited someday. I know that doesn't make the hurt of missing her any less... nothing will.
Heather was a friend to me, and I am a better person because of that. I will miss her too.
If there is anything you and/or the kiddos ever need... anything at all, please let me know.
All my condolences,
Melanie (bed_head)
Jim, I'm so sorry. Your words are so touching and the hurt I can't imagine. If this helps, please go to this site and read about another husband who went through what you went through and maybe you can help one another. http://www.saxtown.com/
Now once again, Healther can feel her dad's arms closing around her and hear him laughing and saying, "Good girl!"
Dear Jim,
I am crying, having just seen the news of Heather's death here. I had bookmarked her blog page and would check every few days to see if she had written since her last time in January. A leap of faith and the picture of her flying through that leap.....so inspirational and I would pray that she would write again and we would see that she had made it to the other side (and with one of her great pictures to go with it!). I lost my sister almost 2 years ago; she left behind children too. I wish I could keep you and your family from the pain, but I know that it's Heather's wonderful spirit and your wonderful memories of and with her that will prevail.
3/6/07
Jim,
A stranger's heart goes out to you and your children. Heather was an inspiration to those not only with cancer, but to perfectly heathly people. She showed you how to live and be strong. Her blog is powerful. She will never know how many people she inspired to be grateful for every moment of life. It's a gift. Even though I will never meet you, I can feel her love of you and the children thru her words. There should never be any doubt about how unique and strong your love was. Just know, a stranger will think of you, and your children often.
Leap of Faith....how fitting. Heather has now had her leap. We should all be jealous of her. Those of us that have pain in our lives, her pain is now gone. Go in peace Heather. We will miss you!
~I
Still thinking of you Heather.
-Katrina
5/24/2007
I came over here from que-sarah-sarah.blogspot.com - which was a link from another site of a brave woman dealing with breast cancer - and Sarah's story was sad - and even sadder is the fact that I believe she could very well be dead as I type this - Heather was mentioned by Sarah because she knew her - and after reading through her blog - I feel as if I know her - and I pray for her family - the strength of her husband Jim and the love and honor her children brought to her - cancer is one of our enemies and I hope to one day see it eradicated.
all my best wishes ~
Found this blog while researching melanoma. Heather's spirit and courage shine through every word, and it's so sad that her last post had to reflect her family's lack of support. Jim, I don't know if this helps, but a random stranger on the Internet has drawn inspiration from Heather's story and wishes you and your children healing and peace.
Dear Jim and Family,
I just found and read Heather's blog today (6/28/07). I'm deeply touched by her courage, honestly and love that she had for all of you.
My father is in stage 3 colorectal cancer. Watching him be so sick has been terribly hard on those of us who love him.
Cancer effects everyone in the family and the true friends within the "circle" of your life.
While I didn't know Heather, I'm sadded by the loss of her from this realm. I'm saddened by the knowledge of the pain you and your family are going through. I'm saddened that in this day and age people are still dying from cancer.
For what it's worth, even after her death, Heather's courage has helped me and inspired me. Being brave is very tough!
Thank you for sharing her with us.
God Bless You and Your Family. May you find peace and restful sleep with beautiful dreams once again.
My deepest condolences and heartfelt sadness for your loss. Heather is now your guardian angel.
How is Heather doing? She hasn't updated her blog in a while. I pray she is alright.
Heather hi im a 12 yr old aussie I am studing melanoma at school , congrats on the great news,You know my uncle died of melanoma and when he was realy sick this lady forced him to marry her, any way sorry I said all that all the best for the future and good luck.Plus a big hug.
This is years later...but I just came across Heather's blog today and I read every word. And I cried.
I am so, so sorry for your family's loss. I lost my dad three months ago to mel and it's been hard. He also had a fighting spirit like Heather and I found so much inspiration in her words.
Please know that you are in my thoughts and prayers. The world should not be robbed of such wonderful people.
Thinking of you,
Erin
Hi Heather,
My name is Jennifer Whitmore and I work for HealthAcuity. We are an independent market research firm seeking adult individuals with Melanoma or Metastatic Melanoma to participate in an online discussion board. The board moderator will be asking questions related to your condition for a study being sponsored by a major medical manufacturer. You would be paid $100 for your participation.
If you are interested or know someone else who may be interested, you can message me back or call me anytime 9am to 5pm EST at 1-866-319-5851.
I hope to hear from you soon!
Jennifer Whitmore
surveys@healthacuity.com
1-866-319-5851
Heather doesnt live here anymore.
It's so sad. I stumbled upon Heather's blog via a Melanoma site and came to know Heather died in March 2007 (about a month later she wrote her very last post in this blog in 2007 January). I read most of her blog posts and realised what an amazing person she was. Her blog entries moved me to tears, educated me about life and it's many blows, gave me courage to face almost anything like a true sport.
We will never read another blog post from Heather but I just want her family and friends to know what alot she taught me through her journey. It takes a courageous person to be able to share their paniful phases in life with others in a public domain. I truly admire the valiant spirit of Heather. RIP, you are in a better place now with no pain, no tears. Be well, until we meet again.
I did not know Heather. I came here from a sig line from another website and read Heather's words and cried. You said to check out Heather's blog so I did. I hope you don't mind me posting. Just wanted you to know that I came and read and wept.
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