Some times, I take medicine to help me sleep, and I still lie awake and cry for hours. I hold my little girl, who’s quickly catching me in height I might add, grasp the hand of my sleeping husband, working so hard not to disturb his slumber, and just hold on to every single moment. The moments that seem to be fleeting. The moments that someone is counting down. The moments that I’ve so often taken for granted. My moments. My stillness. Me alone in the dark, waiting.
Every time I allow myself to feel hope, to talk about the future, to prepare for the next step, to see the light at the end of the tunnel… I find myself sitting in room number six, all over again. (That stupid cartoon tiger taunts me.) Not physically of course. This time, I was in room sixteen, with two of my care team members on zoom. “The bone marrow results showed evidence that the desease has returned.” And that my dear friends is how you learn you have cancer for the third time. (Same cancer, multiple relapses, if you prefer that terminology.)
The third time you’re told you have cancer, you sit motionless for the duration of that meeting. Then, you sit quietly over the next 5 hours, while you receive your platelet and blood transfusions. Then, you stand in line at the pharmacy, twice, to pick up your prescriptions. (Don’t forget to order pizza for your family!) Then, you make the long trek to your car, that you can’t find, in the parking garage, and drive home. No breakdowns, no tears, no emotion whatsoever. Just the quietness, and the stillness, that exist when you slow down long enough to be in it. You’ll learn later that the tears come in small burst during the following days. Often unprovoked. You know all the questions, but you’re still wondering who to yell at!
Everyone around me, is holding on to hope that the repeat biopsy I had performed on Monday will show more favorable results. I am not so hopeful. I suspect the results will show even more growth. Which means, we have reached the end of curative treatment options with our current facility. We will be forced to search for clinical trials, and experimental therapies that may help us achieve remission. With bone marrow transplant still being my only hope for cure. We expect results next week.
My heart aches. Deep down in the unseen places, it aches. I’m tired. So, completely exhausted. I’m hurting. Physically and mentally. My faith is wavering. Like a candle in the wind that refuses to go out. My hope is dwindling. With each new relapse, the light grows more dim. I’m often overcome with complete sadness. Is there a word for what is beyond sadness? I can’t focus. I have trouble with complex task. I’m loosing myself. Honestly, I’m not even sure I knew myself.
I’m broken.
I would list a whole slew of prayer request, but I just don’t have it in me. I need a miracle. Pray as you feel led, and know that I appreciate every one of them. Even the silent ones. Even the ones that are short and non-specific. Every single one.
~Elizabeth
Let There be Fight 
I’m so sorry Elizabeth I’m praying for a miracle.🙏🙏
Love you girl!! Still praying for you day and night!! Hugs your way!! Wish I was closer to you to hug your neck and help you!!
Dear Elizabeth ~ We love you, and pray for a lifting of your spirits so you can have more peace and be able to enjoy time with your family. May your recent test have a positive result. We continue to pray for a complete healing. 🙏🙏🙏♥️
Continued prayers.🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏❤❤❤❤
So sorry to hear what you are going through. You and your family and dad are in my thoughts and prayers
Praying through my tears for you and your family dear one. God is here – He will hold you close.
Dear Sweet Elizabeth,
Words don’t exist to describe the emotions and feelings that are running through me after reading your post. Trying to empathize your feelings, thoughts, and emotions and the “brokenness” that you describe I can only say to you that your faith will carry you. Don’t give up and don’t lose that hope of promise that through Christ all things are possible. Our prayers are with you for a miracle that God will reveal himself through you in a magnificent way as a testament to His sovereignty and glory.
Elizabeth, I don’t know you personally yet your story breaks my heart. I am a three time survivor, of three different cancers, and yet I have never felt your despair. I always knew I would survive. My prayers are with you as I hold you in my heart.
Oh dear child of God ~ Hold onto Jesus!
We donât get answers at times BUT Trust in Jesus!
Praying, PRAYING!
I love you Elizabeth. Keep the post coming and Praying More!
BIG HUGS!
Angie
Elizabeth, my thoughts and prayers are with you. May the awesome Lord above lay his healing hand upon your shoulder and give you strength and that third miracle you so deserve… Blessings
You and I are battling the same beast and I can relate so much to you because we both have little girls and family that we adore so much. You are always on my mind and just know that even though we have never met in person only through support groups or instagram. I want you to know that I feel your pain and I pray for a miracle because I’ve never known a more deserving mother and person. I pray for good results that can get you that transplant for healing.. but most importantly I pray for you and your family to have peace and happiness. I feel bad saying it but life sucks sometimes and I get so angry that this happens to people at ALL. My only consolation is to have faith that god has greater plans for us all. Always praying and thinking of you and your sweet family.
Love, Maria
You are so sweet. Thank you for your kind words. I’m sorry you are going through this. It’s hard and it’s ok to say that it stinks. I’m adding you to my prayer list! Prayers for healing and peace.
Dear Elizabeth, your blogs are hauntingly beautiful and break my heart at the same time. My husband also has Systemic Mastocytosis. I was told about your blog from his brother Robert. My husband Scott doesn’t like to talk about his disease or how bad he’s feeling because he can’t handle seeing his wife cry. I try to have my breakdowns in private and continue to encourage him as much as possible. Thank you for sharing your journey. Even though I don’t have the disease myself, I can relate to your pain. I pray for you and your family for strength and a medical breakthrough. We are on this journey together and I hold my husband a little tighter and lean on God everyday for strength. Hugs!
Thank you for your kind words. I’m sorry your family is going through this. It’s hard! And it’s totally ok to have breakdowns. Shower your family with love and if that brings tears, let them flow. We are to share each other’s load. To shoulder each other’s burden. It’s ok to not be ok. Things this side of eternity are messy. I’m adding your family to my prayer list! Prayers for healing and peace.