Alive Day: The anniversary of a day that you came close to death. Very popular with military veterans. It is usually not celebrated openly but serves as a day of reflection. (From the Urban Dictionary, not usually my first choice for information, but 🤷🏻♀️)
The day could also be called "I'm Still Here Day" or "Happy Surgerversary Day;" I'm still undecided. All I know is that one year ago today, at this time I had just arrived home from ICU, after fighting for my life. (Dramatic much?) If you missed that part, you can read about it here,here, and here.
People use various dates as their "Cancerversary," such as the day they were diagnosed (Friday the 13th, May 2022) the day they met with their surgeon for the first time, (June 1, 2022), or whatever other date they find meaningful. And yes, of course, I've been celebrating all the dates! But today feels different. I'm feeling all the things. 😟 I find myself vacillating between "I have the day off and so does hubby, yay! Let's do something fun to celebrate!" and "I just want to spend the day in quiet contemplation, enjoying being alive and marveling at God's goodness." It's weird. 😑 I honestly can't spend too much time thinking about the "What ifs?" It's something better consumed in bite-sized pieces of time. And no, it's not because I'm scared of dying, because I'm not. Really. Why should I be? I'm going to heaven! Now, I'm not in any hurry to go, but that's because I don't want my loved ones to grieve. But seriously, who wouldn't want to go hang out with Jesus in paradise?! 🏝
I've been looking for something to commemorate the occasion and was reminded by a friend that the Israelites would erect a memorial stone for special occasions such as crossing the Jordan River. So, I wracked my brain, trying to think of what I could use. I initially thought of getting a stepping stone, but couldn't find one I liked, besides, I wanted to include the Bible passage I've adopted as my life verse. So hubby and I went on a little jaunt to Greenland Garden Center, where we enjoyed a lovely lunch on the patio, and picked out a water fountain.
My Ebenezer. In Hebrew, Ebenezer means “stone of help”
(eben = stone; ezer = help).
(Not my fountain, but a reasonable facsimile. 😊)
In the Bible (1 Samuel 7), we read about how God intervenes on behalf of the Israelites and helps them defeat the Philistines in battle. To memorialize this victory, Samuel is recorded in verse 12 as doing the following:
"Samuel then took a large stone and placed it between
the towns of Mizpah and Jeshanah. He named it Ebenezer (which means “the stone of help”), for he said, “Up to this point, the LORD has helped us!”"
The very fact that I'm here writing this post is a testament to how God has helped me in the past 13.5 months. 💟
I was at the dentist a couple weeks ago where they are well acquainted with the events of the past year. As the hygienist was finishing up my polishing, she asked me how I made it through the past year, suggesting perhaps that it was the support of friends and family, or immense inner strength. My response was simply, "Ha! Yeah, no, definitely not my strength. The answer is actually very simple. God. God got me through the past year. Yes, the support of friends and family was important, but this past year showed me just how weak I am." Her response was surprising, "I envy your faith." Really? 🤔 I mean, obviously, it's a wonderful thing, but you don't have to envy from afar, I'll share! There is more than enough to go around! 😄 After all, John 3:16 states: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." I'm pretty sure you're part of this world...unless you're a mermaid? 🧜♀️ (Sorry, not sorry. Earworm song incoming!) No worries, I won't start preaching, but if you have any questions just message me.
Right. Back to my Ebenezer...I've ordered a plaque with Psalm 73:26 engraved on it.
Below the Bible verse I'm having the following engraved:
"To commemorate June 29, 2022."
When I saw this art on Etsy I was struck by the positioning and different font sizes of the words. "...but God..."
From the medical perspective, my odds of a complete recovery following my post-surgery crumpage weren't great, but God decided I wasn't done here yet.
Severe ARDS doesn't usually resolve within 24 hours, but God decided that the information on the Yale Medicine website doesn't apply to me. (I retired my incentive spirometer 💨 a week after coming home, as it was no longer a challenge.)
"Many people with ARDS recover most of their lung function within several months to two years, but others may have breathing problems for the rest of their lives. Even people who do well usually have shortness of breath and fatigue and may need supplemental oxygen at home for a few months."
Patients aren't usually discharged home from the ICU, especially after only 6 days, but God decided to make my story a bit more interesting.
Yes, I'm a strong-willed, stubborn scrapper, but God deserves all the glory!
I had an MRI (tumour in my forearm = no change = yippee!) the day before Alive Day. (Looks like I've adopted the military term!) It was an interesting experience to walk the halls I remember traversing on a stretcher during my ICU-to-ICU transfer from the U of A Hospital to the Misericordia Hospital for my second surgery. I was overcome by feelings of gratitude as I thought of the medical personnel who didn't give up when resuscitating me. I was tempted to see whether the nurses I remembered from ICU were working so I could thank them, but I thought that would be weird. Besides, I had a hair appointment. 💇♀️
Yes, I have hair that requires appointments again! The horror of chemo curls is real (think Caucasian 'fro), but Karen, hairdresser extraordinaire, not only knows me well but knows what will look good on my head much better than I could ever imagine. I usually sit down in the chair and answer her usual "So what are we doing today?" with "I don't know. Whatever you think will look good?" I'm so grateful I can trust her! 😁 So yeah, below is the new me. No, of course, that's not my real hair color, I'm a reverse skunk, remember? 🦨 (Don't ask. It's a long story and not even remotely Karen's fault.) I've stopped wearing my wig to work, though still put it on for church. (Don't want to shock anyone!) I'm not sure when I'll pack it away completely.
Hanging out in my she-shed/greenhouse...as usual. (My shirt says "Fight" with Exodus 14:14 on it: "The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still.")
Shortly after my diagnosis, my cousin messaged me recommending a book by his Christian friend, Kate Bowler, who had written about her own cancer journey. (Much, much harder/worse than mine.) I happened across her Twitter account the other day and was blessed by her poem:
A blessing for the life you didn't choose
Blessed are you when the shock subsides,
when vaguely, you see a line appear that divides before and after.
You didn’t draw it, and can barely even make it out.
But as surely as minutes add up to hours and days,
here you are,
forced into a story you never would have written.
Blessed are you in the tender place of wonder and dread,
Wondering how to be whole when dreams have disappeared
and part of you with them,
where mastery, control, determination, bootstrapping, and grit,
are consigned to the realm of before (where most of the world lives),
in the fever dream that promises infinite choices, unlimited progress,
best life now.
Blessed are we in the after, loudly shouting: is there anybody here?
We hear the echo, the shuffle of feet, the murmur of others
asking the same question, together in the knowledge
that we are far beyond what we know.
Show us a glimmer of possibility in this new constraint,
that small truths will be given back to us.
We are held.
We are safe.
We are loved.
Anyone who has lived through a life-changing diagnosis, a traumatic event, or losing someone close to them can attest to "a line...that divides before and after." Looking through photos of the past year+ makes this very clear. I'm so glad God remains the same trustworthy friend in the midst of uncertainty.
Beginning upper right and going clockwise: 1. pre-surgery,
2. post-extubation three days later, 3. leaving the hospital direct from ICU, 4. last Tuesday, June 27, 2023!
For now, I'm in a holding pattern. I have multiple appointments scheduled over the next several months; I'll see my oncologist, radiation oncologist, and cardio oncologist, and have an ECHO, mammogram, and ultrasound. Am I nervous about the outcome of these tests? Of course! The highest risk of recurrence is within the first few years following treatment. I'm not keen to repeat the past year. 😬 So, when I heard "You Already Know" by JJ Heller, I felt as though it was written just for me...and the millions of people who can also relate. Enjoy!
So this is 50? Hmmm, can I take a rain check? No, I'm not afraid of getting older; I hope I get very old! I'd just prefer to go back a year or two, maybe four? Yes, 2021 sounds delightful. Well, not really, but better than 2025; so far, it's been a real downer. So why was this birthday so awful, you ask? Well, February 19, 2025, will forever be remembered as the day we found out my husband has Stage 4 appendiceal carcinoma which is just a fancy way of saying he has cancer that started in his appendix, then burst and spewed cancer cells all over his abdominal cavity, where they promptly began to multiply like Mennonites. (Says the Mennonite mother of only 3.) I'll get to the details later, but suffice it to say, The Big C is back. We thought we'd banished him (I call him Carson Noma), but he's a sneaky little fellow. Ken noticed some tummy discomfort in mid-October, but because he was on call and didn't want to burden his colleagues, he just kept working. ...
Ken and I enjoy driving to the office using country backroads. I took this photo last Friday, when I wasn't sure if he'd be returning to the office. (No worries, it's all safe and good - Marigan is driving... actually, if you've driven with Marigan you know it's neither safe nor good! 😉) If you've ever had imaging done where you were required to hold your breath, you know how good it feels when they say, "And breathe." Until the next time you have to hold your breath, that is. 😒 This past week has had moments of breath-holding and moments of relief. We have felt the power of prayer and thank you for your support. 💗 I apologize for the radio silence; this week had been booked off for a vacation way back in December of 2023. Obviously, this was not the week we had anticipated! I plan to create another blog specifically for Ken, so this post will be short. If I had to leave a review for the past couple of weeks... As I mentioned in the last blog po...
Hello, family and friends! Welcome to the inaugural version of The Makus Year in Review letter, otherwise known as Life Was Too Busy Before Christmas to get the Letter Out. 🫣(Besides, the year wasn’t over! 🤷) Our sunroom, aka. Blood Money Build (built with funds from my Critical Illness Insurance payout), was completed in January and has become the most used room in the house. When we planned the sunroom, we thought building it as a private addition to the master bedroom was a good idea and still do, though the need for guests to traipse through our bedroom is slightly awkward. 🤨(Yes, I always usually make my bed…now.) The bird feeders outside the windows host diverse bird species including Pileated, Hairy, and Downy Woodpeckers, Northern Flickers, and the usual passirines.(And yes, they all have names, such as Robert Junior, the Downy Woodpecker. 🤭) Combined with the antics of Freddy the squirrel, and Joey and Zoey the Mule Deer, we are well entertained! K...
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Thank you Heather for sharing you heart. We are so grateful the God has pulled you through and you are still with us.
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