I broke the news to my co-workers a few weeks ago.

This is not the ‘cancer’ talk. It’s just a photo that we posted on Facebook.

(This is not the ‘cancer’ talk. It’s just a photo that we posted on Facebook.)

I was going to be in and out of the office. It was highly likely that I would burst into tears in the first few days (BTW: I’m pretty proud that I actually didn’t have any MAJOR meltdowns!). We are a small company, and this was going to be felt.

I hadn’t even been there for six months.

I’ve had such an amazing mixture of support from everyone there — each in their own way.

But, the common thread is that they have all rallied around to create a team of support. For instance, within minutes (literally ‘minutes,’ as in less than an hour) of me telling them, they were already creating the Koch Comm team page on the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure.

Did I mention that I have only even known these people for six months?

Then came October 1. Koch Comm turned pink on Facebook.

And, then came these:

My boss and my coworkers are truly more than I deserve.

And this is just a teeny tiny glimpse of the support I have been given.

It is so strange to look back at the last two years of our lives and see so many things that have happened to prepare us for this next year (more on that later).

One of those things was Kym Koch Thompson calling me last March. She is a great leader who always sees the best in people, and her team is reflective of this – a team that has poured out care, concern and support.

Words cannot express how grateful I am to have been invited to join this team.

I’m back! Officially back to the usual routine of work, kids, dinner, kids, etc. To be honest, I missed it. That, and that husband of mine.

I’m officially heading to Houston next Wednesday for my early Thursday morning appointment at MD Anderson. I’m nervous and excited all at once. Excited about a new way of approaching a treatment plan. Excited that everyone has said fantastic things about what this experience will be.

MD Anderson

I’m nervous because so far my experience, while limited, has consisted of two things. First, a fairly rude lady to whom I’ve been assigned for getting the appointment scheduled. She isn’t the friendliest I’ve ever met and is not great about returning phone calls. Second, my appointment is set for next Thursday morning, and it isn’t until then that I will know how long I have to stay in Houston. Talk about inconvenient for the type-A planner.

But, back to being excited (since that is a better thing to focus on) … in the Mercy system, I started with the breast surgeon. She is the one who gave me the beginning of the plan with intentions of passing me off to the oncologist afterward. At MD Anderson, the lady told me with the size of my tumor, they will start me off with the medical oncologist who specializes in breast cancer. She will determine the course of action, then I will (so I hear) start a week of tests and visits with other specialists. I’m feeling pretty happy that my second opinion will have a different approach/perspective. If they tell me the same thing Mercy tells me, I’ll feel pretty confident.

My surgery with the doctor here has been rescheduled for October 31. Unfortunately, she only does these surgeries on Wednesdays. I might not be back from Houston on the 24th…and if I push it to November, I’ll feel too much like Kristina in Parenthood (who got diagnosed the same day as me, by the way). So Halloween, it is…assuming I don’t decide to go to MD for my treatment.

On a lighter and more funny note, we had parent/teacher conferences tonight with Ty and Bryn’s teachers. Bryn’s teacher told me that she knew I had cancer because Brynlee came to school and told the entire class that her mom had cancer, but she wasn’t going to die … but she WAS going to lose all of her hair.

Ty’s teacher was grateful for some clarification. A few weeks ago, she assigned a book report to Tyler that was due on October 9. The next day (most likely the day after we told the kids), he came to school and told her that he wasn’t sure he could turn it in because his mom was going to have cancer that day. She asked, “Does she have an appointment or something?” Ty said, “No, she’ll just have cancer on that day so I’m not sure if we can get it done.”

And that, folks, is why you tell the teacher before you tell the kids.

We met a new friend last Sunday.
Judy from our church — Acts 2 United Methodist Church — stopped by to give Jenny a gift. Before Sunday, we did not know Judy. We actually recognized her immediately as someone we often saw at church services (especially before Acts 2 began offering a third service on Sunday — an early one; I don’t think Jenny likes getting going as early as Judy on Sundays).

We recognized her as a friendly face, but we didn’t know her.

But that didn’t stop Judy from going well out of her way to get to know us.

Judy called Jenny and wanted to talk to her about surviving cancer. She didn’t sugar coat anything, but she did make it clear that you can have good times in your life even while undergoing treatment. Judy is a survivor — first leukemia, then breast cancer.

She told the story of how her husband had bought her a stuffed bear as she began treatment years ago. She brought the bear and let us hold it.

It was heavy. That’s what happens when you attach dozens of metal items to a stuffed bear.

Judy told about how her friends and family offered pins, key chains and other assorted items that she could pin, glue, sew or otherwise attach to the bear. As she went through the four years of treatment with leukemia, and then — years later — the year of treatment with breast cancer, she kept the bear with her. The attached items helped remind her of all the people praying for her from all aspects of her life and from all around the world.

So here is the gift Judy gave to Jenny:

It’s not a Teddy Bear. It’s better. It’s a Pillow Pet. (Words cannot describe how excited Brynlee is about this development).

Jenny is excited, as well. She likes the idea and plans on using it just as Judy described.

So she could use your help.

If you would like, we’d love to attach items to our new pillow pet. A pin, key chain or something similar that’s meaningful to you, Jenny or both — or it could just be something that looks nice.

As Judy says, each attached item represents a prayer. We already know there are lots of people praying for Jenny. That feels really good to our entire family.

The visual reminders and the soft pillow pet feel really good, too.

P.S. — if you want to mail it to us, that would accomplish two things. (1) It would successfully deliver the item to us; and (2) it would give me reason to walk to our mailbox and allow me to rethink my plan to cancel my mail, thereby avoiding an interrogation from the postmaster general.

Our address is 908 W. Mid Iron Way; Edmond, OK 73025

(In-person deliveries are welcome, too.)