The Decision

Bruce and I took the tiny elevator up to the third floor of the Doctor's Building. With a little appointment card serving as our guide we located the Breast Health Clinic door. We entered into a little living room with quilts on the walls and pleasant music playing. Bright and cheerful artwork depicting hope was scattered about. We were immediately greeted by a happy secretary who had been expecting us!

Wow! They were expecting ME!

"Do you need my insurance information?", Was my automatic inquiry.

"No. It will be just a minute. I will let the doctor know your here! Won't you have a seat?"

The Doctor was waiting for ME?!?! Really! Pinch me - I must be in Wonderland!

Bruce and I took a seat on the couch (Yep, I said couch) and I picked up a catalog with pictures of pretty women modeling perfectly coiffed wigs and head scarves. Within 2 minutes the door opened and we were welcomed back to visit the doctor.

Both Bruce and I had an immediate connection with this surgeon. He was genuine, unhurried and gained our trust with his quiet demeanor and sense of humor ( in other words he laughed at my jokes)

We viewed pictures of the mammogram, to which he compared with the two year old mammogram. We were amazed that nothing was visible. He then showed us the ultrasound image and pointed out the uninvited mass. It appeared slightly oval shaped. He pulled out a medical tumor model to show us approximately what size they estimated the tumor to be. We had discovered it early and that was a positive. However, until we got it out and tested it, we didn't know for sure what kind of cancer we were dealing with.

The surgeon did a quick exam to find the tumor and then we discussed the surgical options. I was impressed that the doctor did not try and persuade me what option I should take. He simply put the information out there, left Bruce and I for a short time to discuss what we had just heard and then he returned. I had already decided before I came - I wanted a mastectomy.

The Dr and his nurse returned to our room and asked if we had any questions. I announced,

"I want a mastectomy and the sooner the better!"

I then blurted out,

"Could you remove the other breast too? I can't imagine wearing a 12 pound prothesis"

We all laughed and he told me that even though a bilateral mastectomy to some may seem radical, given my history and my "youth" ( Yep, he said that too! ) it was a prudent choice.

He and his nurse then confided that they hoped that would be one of my questions.

"If it were my wife in your situation, I would encourage her to go that route."

My decision was a good choice for "me".

Later, when all the results came in and genetic factors were calculated ( yep, they've got a calculator for that ) I would have undoubtedly been facing cancer again within 7-10 years.

Many friends and family could not understand why "their" friend or loved one only got a lumpectomy, or they only took radiation, etc, etc...They felt I should get more opinions. As much as I appreciated their concerns there are a couple of things the general public needs to understand about cancer:

#1 There are MANY different kinds of cancer. "Their" friends may not have had an aggressive cancer, they may have had a smaller tumor, they may not have had a significant history of cancer, they may have been younger or older....so many factors are behind what a person and their health care provider consider that it is impossible to find a one-size-fits all approach to addressing breast cancer.

#2 I honestly had no warm fuzzy attachment to my breast (I know many women do and that is okay) I HONESTLY knew I did not want to haul along a huge prothesis everyday. I had seen my mothers scar and I knew what I was asking for. This was the right decision for "me".

We scheduled the big day before we left. Now the hard part...I had to tell my parents I had cancer.

I was their baby, albeit a 44 year old baby.

Babies are not supposed to have cancer.

After I got home, I picked up the phone and dialed the number....ring ( Yep, only 1 ring, my mother always answers on the first ring )

"Hello?"

"Hi mom, whatcha doing?"

"Oh, not much...How are you doing?" (All our phone conversations begin exactly that way)

"I'm okay. I just wanted to let you know that my lump was cancer...
(Oh,honey.... DAD, DAD, EARL... (at this point mom is talking to dad, she does that a lot too when we talk on the phone)

Now her voice is quivering.

"Mom. MOM!, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm not afraid. We found it really early. They don't think it is a problem at all. I waited to call you until we knew it was just a little thing. It will be fine."

Dad takes the phone (Dad rarely takes the phone)

"Hey Toot. Are you okay? So, I guess the doctor said it looks like cancer?"

"Yeah, but really Dad, I'm fine. Everything is fine. It is just a little lump. I'm going to have a mastectomy in two weeks. I am doing great, I'm not worried."

Just as we expected. Mom and Dad were knocking on our back door a few hours later. After we visited and they saw with their own eyes that I really was okay, they were comforted. They told me I was a brave girl. Come to think of it. I really WAS okay. God's PEACE had surrounded me from the moment I received that first phone call from Doctor Fox. I was overwhelmed with God's grace during this period.

The only time I shed tears were at night when everyone was sleeping. I would visit with God and talk out my anxiety. My anxiety was not about dying. It was always about my husband or children losing their faith and turning away from God if I should die. I was certain Bruce could not raise Jon and Rachel properly and I feared Bruce's grief would make the kids angry with GOD. My precious grandson Caiden Thomas would not remember he had a Grandma Kuenning (that really hurt).

These are the kind of thoughts women have.

Another weird thing happened during the next two weeks. I swore at night I could feel the tumor growing...I wanted this thing out of my body, NOW!!!! When the psychological sensation grew too much for me, then and only then would I wake up my sweet husband, snoring next to me.

He would hold me and I would fall asleep....and the angels surrounded me while I slept.

"For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways"

to be continued...

~Tami

The C word...

I don't often feel compelled to talk about my journey through breast cancer for a couple of reasons.

One, I survived and two, I always felt weird that people view you as a hero, throw parades on your behalf and applaud for you for simply progressing through this journey called life.

I honestly don't feel heroic or different from anyone else, however, because so many people have a fear of cancer, I decided that maybe my little story could help them understand what it is like to live with cancer.

I discovered a lump in my left breast shortly after my oldest daughter's wedding which was on January 1, 2006. Unlike most stories I've heard, I actually discovered it because I could feel a pinpoint-sized, deeply localized, sharp pain in the region.

There had been several lumps detected over the years in my then, dense breast and they had always been a result of too much caffeine consumption, being overweight and from being what one doctor referred to as "a lumpy gal". Because my mother had had breast cancer, I generally always had anything suspicious checked out eventually if they stayed around long enough.

My doctor and I took this latest lump with a grain of salt because it wasn't totally uncommon except for the pain. After going for a mammogram, I was surprised that they asked me if I could wait and have an ultrasound of the breast taken the same day.

That was a new one.

"Oh, well. While I'm here, why not."

That ultrasound saved my life.

My surgeon would later display the recent mammogram result beside one taken two years prior. There was no sign of anything abnormal based upon the mammogram. As it turned out, the ultrasound was requested for two reasons: My physician could feel a lump and because I had large breast.

The ultrasound displayed a tumor near my chest wall.

I returned to the hospital to have a biopsy taken. Not having a clue what a breast biopsy would entail, I drove myself back to the hospital a few days later. As I climbed onto the exam table in the quiet, dimly lit room, I was relaxed and curious. My personal MD and I didn't really expect it to be anything but a benign mass.

My curiosity soon turned to discomfort as the radiologist could not get a successful grab at the thing. It was so close to my chest wall he was fearful of puncturing the cavity. I had to reposition myself several times and endure many pokes accompanied by the "clicking" sound the needle made, repeatedly followed by a "sigh" from the doctor with each miss. The gentle ultrasound tech grabbed my hand and looked at my face with compassion as I grimaced while the clock ticked on. AT last two biopsied tissues were taken that the radiologist was satisfied with. I was given a bandage and instructed that the results would be sent to my doctor in approximately 1 week.

Over an hour later and somewhat sore from the ordeal, I ventured home, prepared dinner as usual and finished some laundry. Everything was business as usual. I was a bit apprehensive to hear the results because the lump was still there and still painful but I just kept busy. I had started a new college course at UNO and was busy with a full-time job and family.

A few days later I was enjoying a staff work-day. The climate was relaxed because there were no students in the building. I called my doctor's office because I knew the results were expected that day. The nurse put me on hold and got the doctor. I knew something was wrong because the nurse never gets the doctor to tell you that a biopsy is benign.

Holding my breath, I waited to hear her voice. After a minute or two, Doctor Fox came on;

"Hi, Tami. I have the results here in front of me...
the tumor does show cancer."

weird pause...

"I'm so sorry."

"Oh. Okay. Well, what do I do now?"

"I am going to put my nurse back on and she will get you scheduled to see a surgeon. If you have any other questions please call. Good Luck"

"Thanks."

I gently hung up the phone and stared at the old, dog-eared Omaha phone book resting on the counter beside the phone. "How does the paint get chipped on the wall of a staff phone booth?" I randomly thought to myself. The walls looked ugly and neglected compared to the walls in the rest of school. No one cares about what the inside of a staff phone booth looks like...

As though scripted, my right hand flew to my mouth, just like in the movies, as a melodramatic gasp for air punctuated the 4 by 4 foot, bland, theater. However, there were no cameras rolling, no crew directing this episode.

It was silent, still and empty.

Another gasp for air. My hand now clutching the sides of my face...Finally, I could exhale.

Into my hand came staccato waves of breathe, my brow furrowed deeply as my eyes welled with water. No tears would fall. Suddenly, my hand dropped away from my face.

Like a flint, I raised my chin, drew a long, deep, determined breathe and I rose to my feet. I pivoted my numb body in the tiny room, faced the door, grasped the handle and turned it.

I stepped into a different hall, into a different world. A world where cancer demanded its selfish center-stage.

I began walking. No where in particular ~ just walking because I was in a hall and I was on a break and I had cancer in my body. I just started walking...


" The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold."


The Word of the Lord.

~Tami


To be continued.....

I will not be moved...literally

My elementary school is enormous. The building was designed to nestle into the side of a rolling hill, so common to the landscape of Omaha. With five levels, it is impossible to avoid getting from one location of the building to another without ascending or descending one of the imposing, cold, gray, concrete open stairwells.

I would venture to assume the building's architects had never worked with children. Had they experienced firsthand, the fine art of guiding twenty-plus 5 year old students, lined up singled-filed (or something remotely similar) safely and swiftly up a flight of 20 stairs with open railings on all sides, they would have discarded the blueprints and returned to their proverbial drawing board.

To compound the structural impediment, one also must factor in the curious nature of young children. Even the most docile or timid kindergartner channels their inner acrobat as they approach the infrastructure. Simply ascending one foot before the other is a "learned" behavior for these little people. Their lower man is set upon finding the riskiest maneuver to climb the stairs with more than a few, aimed at breaking the current school record and creating an as of yet unknown-to-mankind, ridiculously dangerous pattern of ascent.

To further complicate this endeavor is to factor in the defiant, obstinate, emotionally wounded child who sprinkles the day with their random displays of immobility and or rage.

Friday, my dear friend chose to exercise her will on the 5th step as we headed upstairs to the lunch room. Prepared for combat, I already had her hand in mine, so when the collapse occurred I was able to save the children directly behind her from taking a fall backwards.

"Up on your feet, Genoa, you're our leader today," was my cheery redirection.

To this she kicked off one of her shoes. As the rest of the class attempted to press in on the developing situation, I was able to call on the carpet over the open railing, the three kiddos on the lower level to my right spinning the "Welcome" sign and remind the pressing throng behind me to

"Be safe and stay in your bubble space,"

followed by leading out in a softly sung, quick musical chorus of,

"Body basics, body basics on the stairs, on the stairs, one hand is on the railing, our eyes are to the front, walking safe, walking safe..."

As I attempted a gentle upward pull of the child's arm, it was apparent this was going to be an all-out melt down if I allowed myself to be emotionally phased.

With a second class arriving at our heels, I calmly directed the rest of my class to

"Carefully walk around Genoa, she has chosen not to be our leader,"

Employing the educator's safety lift, I lifted my plumpest kindergarten friend to my chest in a single clean jerk, and with as much grace and joy as The Holy Spirit provided for the moment, whisked her 60 pounds up the remaining 15 steps, my high-heels clicking and landed her with care in the threshold of the cafeteria, pronouncing happily,

"There you go, stay in ABC order class!"

I whisked past her, hoping she would follow...

She did and I sighed as I continued to lead the children through the ridiculous long list of lunch "choices" that were available for their dining pleasure...

Later as I recalled the event to my husband I felt proud that I was able to respond to this hurting girl without destroying her dignity nor mine as we avoided an emotional catastrophe. As Genoa was set upon being 'unmoved" by the wrong reasons, I was set upon being "unmoved" for more noble reasons. It is all in a days work to remain steadfast and stoic in the face of great adversity....why is it so hard to retain this emotional disposition when the adversity meets us at other junctures?

1 Corinthians 15:58

Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast and unmoveable; always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.

The Word of the Lord

~Tami

Love is a pancake....

A lot of attention is given to the fact that teacher's are grossly underpaid and unappreciated. They are certainly underpaid considering the level of education required to become and remain certified, for the amount of time and outside study involved in being successful in their field and for the amount of their own money which is invested into the students they teach.

I disagree with the notion that they are unappreciated though. I suppose it depends on how one defines and measures appreciation...

If gratitude is demonstrated by quarterly or annual bonuses for outstanding achievement - then you may disagree me.

If gratitude is a pat on the back and encouragement from the general public in which you are indentured ~ my premise would be found false.

If gratitude is expressed through gift cards, Bath and Body baskets and notes and cards of praise ~ then I have missed the mark entirely.

However....if we measure appreciation as the sincere expression of admiration,thankfulness and well...even love for another...well then...that's a "whole other story!"

I am lavished with love and admiration on a daily basis. Just this past week I was the humbled recipient of a dangling, purple plastic and genuine gold earring from a 5 year-old.

Another day I was honored with a carefully clipped-out store ad for the boys favorite new toy which comes complete with, "A latch!".

Original masterpieces are stapled to my wall, having been commissioned by admiring kindergarten children who depict me as a stick figure (hey, I can roll with "that!") with a crayon-yellow flipped "do" and glasses...and rainbows....lots and lots of rainbows.

A forlorn little girl whose home life could best be described as "hell on earth" brought me a dirty, cotton cat. A knock-off of the plush Beany Babies, less a few
dozen beans. I took it home and washed it and treasure it.

I have been lauded with gaudy velvet roses, a menagerie of whatnots and "lots of cheap chocolate"

Teacher Appreciation Week can be viewed with optimism or pessimism at my inner city school. The pessimist complain that their college friend who teaches in West Omaha got a gift card for a massage, theater tickets, monetary gifts and other lavish expressions of appreciation from their articulate and involved families, while they only got a single card last year.

Then there are the optimist...my friend Alicia was surprised one year to receive a hand-crocheted tube top made by the mother of one student. This odd expression of appreciation is compounded by the fact that Alicia is a Lane Bryant sized woman!

The most memorable teacher appreciation gift, and one that has yet to be topped is my friends Molly's pancake. I walked into her room and spied a pancake in a ziploc bag on her desk ~

"No time for breakfast?" was my pithy comment.

"That is my teacher appreciation gift from Diego", she replied with a twinkle.

We exchanged understanding smiles and continued our conversation.

We have all been called to work. Work is noble and necessary. It is part of the human experience. If we can keep our eyes on Him whom enabled us to work we will be able to keep our perspective and gain the wisdom to discern what gifts are true and eternal.

If you are feeling unappreciated, underpaid and unimportant today ~ maybe you need to throw out your measuring utensils and look to Jesus for understanding the paradoxes of truth.

"As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. 'I tell you the truth,' he said, 'this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth, but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on."

The Word of The Lord.

My prayer today is that My eyes will not be turned away from what is true and sincerely rich for the temporal and gaudy things humans attach themselves to. Let me offer my work to Christ, for His approval alone. Let me be constantly reminded that I am His and He is mine and that His approval transcends my toil to that which is divine. Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord grant us peace. AMEN

~Tami

A bag of misfortunate consequences....

Two trends emerged at my school last year ~ pregnancy and weight-loss. The young teachers glowed in the former, the middle-aged teacher's reveled in the later.

Tara, looking svelte in her size 8's popped her head into my classroom, "Hey! you got a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Follow me out to my car, I've got something for you!, she smiled. Hiking up my baggy size 16's, I rose from my seat and followed curiously.

Opening the door of her sparkling Volvo, she reached in and retrieved a large Panera bag. Packed tightly inside was a tony stash of trousers to die for!

"I thought you could use these" chirped my tactful cohort.

"Thanks so much!" I beamed.

"I threw in a variety of weights for every season. There are some 14's and a few 12's, she added nonchalantly. 

Now getting a bag of clothes from Tara isn't like getting a bag of clothes from your cousin in Palmyra. This chic has discriminating taste! Later that evening I carefully pulled each dry-cleaned and crisply pressed pair of slacks from the now torn Panera bag.

"Look! It's the Harold's pucci-inspired slacks I always loved!" "Oh,Oh! Another pair of Anne Taylor's", I gushed as  I held them in front of my new-improved-but-still-working-on-it-figure.

"What's an Anne Taylor?" asked my disinterested husband.

"Anne Taylor! You know! The store I can't afford to shop at!", bruuuuuther! I murmured under my breath.

Suddenly, I realized that I had absolutely nothing to wear with the pants from Harold's. I also didn't own a suitable pair of shoes for the Talbot's and Anne Taylor slacks. The only pair of trousers that I owned an acceptable top for were not the correct weight for spring. It would be tacky to wear winter-weight pants in April. It was too early to wear the white-slim crops because I was too white and couldn't afford to go tanning. A wave of depression swept over me. I walked into my closet and assessed the clothes on the hangers. This stuff is so shabby...all those nice pants and I can't wear them.

By the time I showered and went to bed that night I was miserable. Why can't I make a decent living? Let's face it....J.C. Penney girls just can't mix with the Regency Fashion Court set. That's why Tara has two Volvo's and I have a Mercury Sable with duct-tape holding the side panel in place on the driver's side.

It is what it is...that's all there is to it...it is what it is....I just have to be content, hold my head up high.....        

But I do have a coupon for 10 bucks off at DSW.  If I don't buy meat this week maybe I could get a pair of shoes that would work with a couple pairs of those pants. But wait, I still don't have any tops. and then there are the accessories. Like my Worthington purse will work with any of that...yeah, right, forget it. I'm just going to have to get an extra summer job.....

Funny, that morning I was feeling great because I had lost so much weight that my pants were baggy.

Isn't it amazing how fast our world turns when we take our eye's off those things which are eternal and true?

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him, endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

The Word of The Lord.

~Tami

My prayer today is that I will cherish the eternal gift of life my Savior offered for me through the shedding of his blood on the cross. Spirit of God deliver me from covetousness and discontent. Keep my mind fixed on Jesus and my hands fixed on serving the poor. Amen.

"I matter...right?"

Mr. Rogers Video

The most challenging aspect of teaching is not lesson planning, testing or time-management ~ for me, it is intentionally loving every child, every day right where they are at. And let me tell ya friend, that might be under a table, wandering in the Dinosaur Center when they are supposed to be writing or sliding under a restroom stall to bother the kid next door!

Increasingly, kids are arriving to school with more baggage than Imelda Marcos. My most challenging students already are keenly aware that they are "different" than their peers. They are desperately seeking love, acceptance and the reassurance that they are not somehow a "mistake".

The science of  teaching has grown exponentially with the concurrent growth of technology. We now can actually "watch" learning occur  in the brain via MRI scans. When a child's brain receives information through experiences and interactions, little dendrites begin to fire-off until they make a connection. Unfortunately, those experiences may be positive or negative, leaving an indelible mark on the brain and person. The troubled child often has no sense of self-worth. The same troubled children become troubled teens and finally adults who are simply wanting to hear ..."you matter...just your being you...you matter".

A walk down the aisle of a Christian bookstore points to the reality that Christian's are not immune to feelings of inferiority and worthlessness. In fact, I would wager to say that the greatest book sales among Christian's have very little to do with theology, spiritual formation or Biblical exegesis, but rather the psychology of being affirmed as a person. The cynic may describe this as the churches decline into narcissism, which holds some truth. However, the need for humans to know they exist for a purpose, that they have a value and are not somehow a freak of nature has been present since the beginning of time. As a matter of fact, God has placed this yearning in the soul of every human. It is from this place that a soul searches for their Creator. It is in this place that peace is established and love is formed.

When my two youngest children were little I cared for  a friend's two children in my home. Every morning at 9:15, we would listen to the missionary, Elisabeth Elliot on the radio. She began every broadcast with the following affirmation; "You are loved with an everlasting love, That is what the Bible says, And underneath are the everlasting arms"....

The four little children would halt their play at these words....quietly meander nearer to the radio, and sit serenely as they listened to the perspicacious words of the speaker from the Word of God.

The video clip from an episode of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood at the onset of this blog is one of the most authentic and beautiful examples of affirming another human being ~ it is this kind of human connection that I desire to make with every lesson I teach, whether the lesson takes place in a classroom, hallway, on the restroom floor or under the cafeteria table...God, how I need your grace!!!

"I have loved you with an everlasting love, I have drawn you with loving-kindness."

"The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms"

The Word of the LORD.

~ Tami

My prayer today is to Love as God has Loved me....to Affirm as God has Affirmed me...to sow Peace as I have been granted Peace...In the name of The Father, Sonand Holy Spirit, Amen.