Scars in the Sunlight

With Shelly Vaughn

Category Archives: Thoughts


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This day last year…

And this day last year… (I warned you these posts would be coming).

It was a Friday and I was finally scheduled for my diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound. Cleveland Clinic/Akron General has a wonderful breast health center that coordinates all of these appointments, so that they can be done efficiently- which is very appreciated when you want information yesterday.

I had the mammogram first and it was not bad at all. Women friends- if you haven’t done one because you’re afraid of the pain I’m here to tell you to scratch that excuse off of your list. I wouldn’t even call it pain, just discomfort- and you can tolerate a few minutes of discomfort to save your life. Because I was “on the smaller side,” it ended up being more like a yoga session with bending and contorting different ways to get the clearest images of the mass (the mass was on the outer quadrant of the breast). But it was pretty simple.

Once the mammogram was done, they took me into the ultrasound room. First, let me say that the color of paint on the walls in that room is my least favorite color. Its was a tannish/mustardy/brown- probably someone’s idea of a nice neutral. Not mine. And now that I have associated the color with an unfavorable experience, I’m sure I’ll never like it even just a little bit. Anyway, the ultrasound tech quickly got me positioned and started the scanning. She showed no emotion AT ALL. I know that’s her job, and knowing that she probably suspected it was cancer I can see why she was so stoic. She said she got all of the images she needed and I just needed to wait there for the dr to review them. He would be in in just a few minutes.

As much as I tried to relax, I couldn’t. Was someone going to come through that door and tell me I have cancer? Or that I don’t? Or that I’m going to die in a few months? Or that I have a benign cyst? What if it’s bad news? Is it ok to cry right away? Rob had taken me to the appointment but was waiting in a room a few doors down. Who would go get him? Would I be walking out of here in tears like I had seen a woman do at my very first appointment? It’s amazing how many questions a brain can wonder in a short amount of time.

The song, “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus” was playing over and over in my head. My friend, Julie McKeand Black, had just sung it in church the prior Sunday and it was comforting to hear her voice in my head singing truth during a stressful time. Alone and nervous, I couldn’t help but muster up the cheesiest and most comforting “Jesus thought” I’ve ever had. I closed my eyes and pictured Him sitting there with His arm around me. It was so vivid that I leaned to my left just a tiny bit- like you lean in when a loved one puts their arm around you. I don’t know how long I was like that or what I looked like when the dr came in, but he did. And he did not have any answers for me. His exact words- “Sometimes we can look at an ultrasound and know for sure that something is cancer; and sometimes we can know for sure that it’s not. But in your case we cannot tell for sure either way.” Yep- inconclusive… BS… not helpful. Of course it would be. That’s what so much of medicine seems to be sometimes. Looking back, I know I was mad because I didn’t get the “all clear” that I wanted. Sigh.

My next step was to schedule a biopsy where they could do a pathological assessment of the tumor cells and know for sure. And that would be scheduled for the following Tuesday. You know what that meant- another agonizingly long weekend- waiting for the next appointment so that I wouldn’t have to worry about this anymore. I know, I know… in the big picture and relative to most other peoples’ experiences with diagnoses, it was actually happening very quickly. It was hard to be patient, as I still didn’t realize it was just the beginning of the longest year of my life.


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Christmas

The older I get, the more I appreciate the magic of Christmas- the way that everyone is reminded of and talking about the birth of Jesus; that special feeling of anticipation as people prepare for celebrations; giving treats and gifts to special people in our lives; acknowledging those who might be struggling and helping when we can; and carrying on traditions that we’ve had since we were young, and some that we’ve just started since having our own children.

We decided when the girls were babies that we wanted them to wake up at our house on Christmas morning. We wanted to keep that special time for our little family with all of the Christmas Eve preparations (which also now includes candlelit church service) and watching our girls squeal with excitement in our house on Christmas morning- making our home part of the memories. With all of our family members living in PA, this means that every year part of Christmas eve is spent packing and preparing to leave town. And Christmas morning is a whirlwind of excitement here then wisking off to PA to start two other celebrations. Admittedly, it’s hard. But I wouldn’t change it for anything because we’re getting the best of both worlds- Memories in our home as our own family but also with extended family where the girls are making new memories of playing with cousins at their grandparents’ houses. I realize the value of both of those things- especially this whole past year as I was beautifully reminded by my own cousins how precious and meaningful the bonds made at “Grandma’s house” can be.

Here are a few of my favorite pictures from our celebrations. I loved every minute of it. Some of my favorite gifts included a bluegrass record that my neighbor recorded when I was young- I remember listening to it all the time at home. And an “11” shirt from Stranger Things… of course. But my favorite of everything was that Trisha and my parents worked very hard to make our childhood home ready for a family “Christmas at Millersdale”. Sometimes a home makes Christmas; sometimes Christmas makes a home- both ways are equally magical.


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December 30

Dec 30, 2016- This day last year, right around this time, is when I first felt the lump. Sharing the details of this is not meant to scare anyone out there who feels a mass- because 7/8 of you women will be fine. But this just may light a little fire under anyone who does feel something to get it checked early- because 1/8 will be dealing with something far more serious.

Just like with other pivotal moments in life, I remember exactly where I was standing, exactly what it felt like, and exactly the how far my stomach felt like it dropped in that moment. I was getting ready for bed and knew there was something that shouldn’t be there. I ran downstairs and told Rob, asking “what if…” about a zillion times. True to his nature, he was calm and reassuring- reminding me how young I was and how many women feel lumps and have concerns that are “nothing”. It was a Friday night last year, and we knew there was no doctor to call until the next week started anyway. So I did my best to not worry about it, with an obvious plan to call my doctor on Monday. I googled a lot that night, and everything I read indicated so strongly that it was likely a “fibroadenoma”- a benign mass that is common in young women (painless, firm, moveable, distinct borders, and common in women my age.) So there it was- the mass that I felt SO many times from that point on. It couldn’t be… I’m too young… but my family history… that would be awful… not me… I’m only 36… it’s just benign… don’t worry… enjoy New Years… try to sleep… stop touching it… stop panicking… it’s nothing… every woman goes through this… I’m too young… but what if… it just can’t be… go to sleep.


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“I Believe In Santa Claus”

“And I believe that everything in life is what it’s meant to be
I believe there is a God somewhere although he’s hard to see
I believe I am so therefore I should do all that I can
To be a better piece in the puzzle of God’s plan.”

– from “I Believe In Santa Claus”

I couldn’t say it any better than Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. 


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Speaking of trees…

I’ve been obsessing over this song that Julie McKeand Black shared with me. The lyrics are some of the most peaceful words I’ve heard this year. I would encourage everyone to listen… through to the end. My favorites:

Like the frost on a rose
Winter comes for us all
Oh how nature acquaints us
With the nature of patience

Like a seed in the snow
I’ve been buried to grow
For Your promise is loyal
From seed to Sequoia…

… Like a seed You were sown
For the sake of us all
From Bethlehem’s soil
Grew Calvary’s sequoia.

Isn’t it so true- “how nature acquaints us with the nature of patience.” Thinking of the big trees in my life last week… how long it takes for those to root and grow. Watching the leaves around us change color and complete their life cycle as they pile in our yard. Remembering in 2007 when Rob and I saw the Sequoia trees in Yosemite during our “babymoon”. And now reflecting on “Calvary’s Sequoia”- the largest and strongest of all. The One that means the most in our lives; that gave us life; and offers hope for eternal life. Doesn’t need much more explanation than that.

And to think of the “seed in the snow; buried to grow”. Maybe this year was a metaphorical burial for me… a time of cold discomfort and uncertainty, but now with an opportunity to grow into more of the person/mother/wife/daughter/friend that He wants me to be. I don’t know exactly what that will look like, but I know that I will have to be patient with open eyes as He reveals the answer. And I need to continue to be patient with my body as it heals through the next weeks/months even after treatments are done.

“When you’re fearful of change think of the beauty of autumn”. (Tina Heiberg, was that quote from you a while ago? I wrote it in a notebook last year and saved it. Hard to remember where I first heard it, but I love it and I LOVE Fall!)


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My Tribe

Sunday mornings- they are amazing. And I don’t mean that I wake up rested and the kids get ready without hassle (those things would add to the amazement though). I mean that my soul gets renewed by going to our church building, seeing my friends, feeling loved by brothers and sisters there, learning from our minister, and worshipping our God who has done miraculous things in our lives. This morning, the day after reflecting on my long-term friendships, my mind couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of need to also acknowledge my “tribe” from church. There are a group of friends who are a huge part of my life and work “behind the scenes” to keep things on track- physically and spiritually. They have hearts bigger than most I’ve ever met. They allow me to be my true self and will pray harder than any other women I know. They inspire me to be a better version of myself. I feel safe with them- all.the.time. Since January, it has been a special thing to watch how they each respond to our needs- some are more prayerful and some are more practical, but they have shown me the love of Jesus so well. They really are His hands and feet. No doubt that they would hear the words “Well done, daughter” if they were to go to heaven today. As would so many of you who have helped. (I apologize if I haven’t been able to publicly thank everyone, but you all know who you are.) Even those of you who are vigilantly prayerful but from other parts of my life; or those who have shown love but may not be Christians… I still see your support as the hands and feet of Jesus even if you do not. So today’s Sunday morning amazement is intense gratitude for my tribe… my sisters… my church family. It’s beautiful to see how God has placed just the right people in my life.
(This picture was taken back in January shortly after my diagnosis. It includes many of the girls in my tribe, though not everyone. Girls, we do need to get together again soon and get a pic with everyone! 

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Big Trees

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One of the things we love about our house is that when we sit outside on the deck it feels like we’re at a campground. There are just the right amount of trees around to make us feel a little secluded, though the visible lights on at the neighbors’ homes so remind us that they are close. For a family who loves camping, but who also loves the feel of a sweet neighborhood, it’s perfect. The trees are one of my favorite things around here- and there are several different kinds. There are smaller ones that are more recently planted and more visible every day. There are four of them in our front yard that are part of our landscaping. We trim them back occasionally and notice them every day when we’re coming and going from the house. Our home would definitely not be the same without them and we love them. But there are also the bigger trees in the back of the house. They are tall and towering. Their roots are deep and sprawling. They are not as noticeable on a daily basis, but stand strong and firm every day. When it’s stormy and windy, that’s when we notice those ones more. That’s when they move and draw attention to themselves. Together, all of the trees are what makes our home comfortable to us, and exactly what we love.

A few weekends ago, I had the opportunity to spend a day with 4 of my closest friends… from middle school… over 25 years ago! We met each other when we were 11 years old and we became very close from the start. We have SO many memories of hanging out with each other. Many more people were added to the mix since that 6th grade year, but there is something special that is hard to define when you have the kind of history that we have. As with every friendship, our time together wavered as we went through high school, but the deep roots were planted firm enough that we could withstand everything. They are my “big trees” in life…. they have always been there- strong and steady. Sometimes unnoticed, but they stand out during the storm. They’ve been incredibly present and attentive during my storm this year. And I’m constantly reminded of how wonderfully they’ve held space with me when I’ve needed it.

During our time over that weekend, we looked through a LOT of pictures, had a ton of laughs, and I was so pleasantly reminded why I love these girls so much. I couldn’t help thinking that Olivia is almost to the age that I was when these friendships started. But things are so different for our own kids and the next generation. Our kids and their friends text and Facetime each other. They play the “words with friends” app instead of sitting at a table playing Scrabble. They are entertained by watching the same YouTube sensations at home and then talking about it the next day instead of sitting next to each other on the couch watching tv and taking bathroom breaks during commercials. But I will try my hardest to encourage my girls to disconnect from technology and be present with their friends during this preciously formative time in life. What young girl doesn’t remember the contagious giggles you get when you’re delirious- especially at sleepovers? You can’t “catch the giggles” through texting. 

I experienced such sweet memories during this recent weekend- the way Carly Caruso rubs her nose when she talks about things that concern her; Megan Nagel’s impeccably-timed humor; Trisha Brunazzi’s sarcastic tone in her voice; and Mindy Brisbane Vickers’ contagious laughter. Those beautiful nuances are noticed and treasured so deeply. And when Mindy jumped up to give me a hug the moment she saw my eyes starting to well up with tears while telling a story- that couldn’t even begin to be translated through technology if we hadn’t been together in that moment. I’m so thankful to be on the receiving end of love from this crew. Sharing physical space and such sweet memories with my friends since 25 years ago is the reason we still share meaningful emotional space now that we’re older. And reminds me that each of the memories of this experience through cancer- all of the meals, cards, time, messages, donations, and visits- are making the roots of relationships with all of you even deeper and stronger as well- strong enough to withstand any storm.
(Hopefully we’ll see more of those life-long friend at our 20 year reunion. Erin Searfoss, Kaitlin McHugh, Steph Byham, Mandy Daughenbaugh-Smith… and somehow you should be there too, Jessica Wypasek Gregory!)


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I wonder if they’ll know…

I wonder if they’ll know…

That they are the reason people call me brave. Without them, I would not have gotten out of bed sometimes. Getting them ready for school meant getting up and moving when I’d rather stay in bed. Taking care of them while at my lowest, meant living.

That finding people to help with them has brought me closer to certain friends and has given me the gift of watching others love on my kids. Hearing people offer to help take them places has meant seeing light shine brightly from others.

That everytime someone has sent them a gift or a card it has made my heart fuller than gifts for myself. The first cards that came in the mail for them, from other siblings whose mom had been through cancer, remain two of the most cherished pieces of paper in our home.

That watching them sleep brings a sense of peace that is indescribable- it has been that way since they were babies.

How their giggles strike a chord deep inside of me- more beautiful than all the music I could ever listen to. Hearing them laugh with each other brings its own special peace in my soul- as I know they’re growing a special bond as sisters that no one else in the world will be able to relate to. And they’ll have each other long after Rob and I aren’t here.

That my biggest fear has not been for me leaving them. It’s that they would have to go through the grief of losing their mom.

That I worry more about how they are getting through this than how I am.

That I’m beyond proud of their resilience and sweet souls as we navigate these waters without guidance. What to say? How much to share? How to calm their worries. What is normal now? Should I tell them I’m scared? Should I let them see my scars? What does this mean for their futures? What if? What if not? My worries for them go far beyond anything for myself.

That caring for them, raising them, has been such a beautiful gift- given to us and wholly appreciated- now more than ever. We’ve been graciously given the task of raising these two beautiful, sweet, hilarious, emotional, loving souls. But they are not ours… they are His. Our Creator who made us, who knows them, who holds them through me. I am so thankful that they were created in my womb. The most miraculous feelings this body has ever known was growing those two inside of it. Though my body feels like it’s failing me now, it certainly didn’t then. The breasts that have recently caused such sorrow did their job to feed those two. These hormones that “fed” cancer also did their part to create life a decade ago. And I can be nothing but grateful for that.  

You know, chemo didn’t just make me feel bad- it made me feel like a different person. My best identity change was when I became a mother to my girls. It was planned, welcomed, expected. This year my identity changed- unplanned, unwelcomed, unexpected- so much that I couldn’t recognize myself. I was no longer strong, healthy, happy, easy going. Physical changes forced me to be ok with a body I couldn’t control. Emotional changes forced me to feel differently than ever before. That was an intentional “ly”. My emotional responses and interactions with others were so unlike anything I was used to. And one of the most noticeable struggles was how hard it was to laugh. It’s just so hard to do when your body is not well. But you know the two people who could make me laugh no matter what- those two beauties I have the privilege of calling my daughters. They are precious souls who show love just as often as they fight with each other. Thank you to everyone holding space with me who have loved on them. And to those of you who haven’t met them yet- you’re missing out. I think they’re a couple of the best humans I know. Watch for them to change your world…. just like they’ve changed mine.

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