There And Back Again

Home.
What a sweet word, and an even better place.
I was gone eleven days. An unexpected journey, to be sure.
The past six months have been layers of the unexpected; heartbreaking, devastating at times, and exhilarating, joyful, magnificent at others.
Nothing can prepare you for the process.
Sunday, October 19. I'm struggling with anxiety and fear. The hazy thing in the future called "surgery" is only a day away. I go to church, and am overwhelmed by peace, which grows throughout the day, ending in a sweet, blissful, joy filled time with my Gospel Community Group.
Monday, October 20, 5:15 am. I'm dressed, ready with my hospital bag. The sky is still dark, and the air is crisp as I walk to the car. Ha, walk. Inside my head a list of "this is the last time" plays. The last time I'll walk on my real foot. The next time I'll put weight on it, I'll have battle scars. Peace accompanies me as I walk into Admitting. Mom and I wait, and I make her laugh. The minutes tick by, and at 6:30 my name is called. I'm given a bracelet with my information on it, and directions for where to go next.
Pre-Op. A small curtained room. I change into a hospital gown, and crack more jokes. More waiting; a nurse comes and has me verify what the surgery is. My surgeon (Dr. H) comes in and draws on my leg and foot. It's funny seeing him in regular clothes; I've only ever seen him in scrubs.
He delivers the first morsel of good news.
"We've decided to take the full graft from your thigh. We won't have to touch your shoulder."
He leaves, and mom and I exchanged relived smiles. One less scar to heal. I had been nervous about the shoulder being the one of donor sites.
Time slips away, mom and I say goodbye, the nurse leads me past the point of no return.
It's time for the IV. I'm cold, making my veins small, and hard to find. The nurse tries three times, and finally finds one.
It's time. The hands on the clock have moved to 7:30. I'm wheeled into the OR.
A host of doctors and nurses greet me, verify my identity, and why I'm there. I'm transferred to the operating table, the anesthesiologist places a mask over my face and tells me to breathe.
I slip into nothingness.
4:30, Post Op Recovery room.
Two nurses are talking to me. My mind is cloudy. Hysteria sets in. I'm crying, not understanding why, not able to control my emotions or my trembling body. I'm told to take deep breaths, but it's the last thing I want to do. I don't know how, but I finally calm down. I'm given morphine for pain.
Flap checks are every 20 minutes. They press the graft to make sure it's taking, and listen with a Doppler (similar to an ultrasound) to make sure the venous and arterial veins are functioning properly.
Second flap check. Something in the nurse's face changes.
"We need someone from plastics to come." She tells her colleague.
"Is something wrong?" I ask. She doesn't answer.
Ten minutes go by. Pain blooms in my foot, and I know something is wrong. I'm given more morphine, which doesn't help.
The plastics intern walks in. He checks the flap, and listens.
"We've lost the venous." The pain is throbbing now. My foot feels tight and heavy.
"What does that mean?"
"The venous takes blood back to the heart. It looks like a vein has burst, which is causing swelling."
That would explain why it feels like my foot is going to explode.
He turns to my nurse. "We need to get her back to the OR."
"How soon?"
"Not longer than 30 minutes."
He leaves, and I watch the clock. Pain is rising, and panic bubbling up as well. Ten agonizing minutes crawl by. More morphine. No relief. All I want is to get back to the OR and be put to sleep. Anything to escape. I question the nurse about how much longer.
"Soon," she assures me. I'm trying not to scream, but moan instead.
I don't know how I get through the next fifteen minutes, but at last, at 5:30, I'm wheeled to the OR. There are no jokes this time. It takes longer for the anesthetic to work, because of my anxiety. For the second time, the world goes dark. There is no more pain.
7:30. I feel heavy, sluggish, dull. I don't want to wake up. Slowly, the tendrils of fog in my brain begin clearing. I hold my breath during the first flap check. The nurse smiles at me. All good.
20 minutes later, another successful check. They let my family in. After the third check, I'm declared stable, and ready to be moved to a room.
The hospital bed is rolled down corridors, and through a set of heavy doors into GH5; my home for the next week.
That's the second piece of good news: The surgery went so well, that they've cut my initial two week stay down to seven days.
I'm too groggy to care. My voice is low and scratchy, my throat sore from having breathing tubes in for ten hours.
I'm not allowed water yet, and I discover the wonder of ice chips melting on my tongue.
Thinking is as hard as walking waist deep through molasses. R brings flowers, and jokes that I sound like a bass. My family assures me the surgery was a success.
Flap checks are every hour, and continue to be positive. I can't stay awake anymore.
Tuesday, the 21st. Rough night, after being woken up every hour. The doctors make their rounds between 6 and 6:30 am, and I am a special case, so everyone comes to examine me. (the most I had at one time was ten)
My body is full of morphine and anesthetic. All I want to do is sleep. I'm aware of visitors throughout the day, but it takes all I have to keep my eyes open. When I do, I see more flowers, brightening up the stark room. I have no appetite.
 I am totally tubular. An oxygen line to my nose, two IV lines, two drains coming out of my leg, a catheter. This isn't me. I barely feel human. I surrender to sleep.
Third blessing: I am alone. Having a room to yourself is rare, and I enjoy the semi-peace.
Wednesday, the 22nd. I'm off morphine, but the haze, everything is a haze. It's hard to form thoughts. The doctors are getting worried that I still haven't eaten anything.
My first big shock comes today; they change my thigh bandage for the first time. The nurse starts at my hip, and slowly peels the bandage off. The stitches keep going, and going, and going, ending at my knee. That would explain why it feels so tight and sore. It's going to be a beast of a battle scar.
S and L visit, bringing more flowers. No more oxygen tube.
Thursday, the 23rd. Breakthrough. It's amazing how having your hair washed can make you feel human. It's the first time I've felt human since the surgery, and glimmers of myself are appearing.
I am able to consume some rice. Small victories.
Friday, 24th.  Zombie land again. I guess being human has worn me out. I sleep, and am pleased to discover I have minimal pain.
Saturday, the 25th. Eventful day. The morning nurse greets me with the news I'm changing rooms. I feel lucid, and eat breakfast! The IV and catheter are taken out. Today I feel like Esther. I'm moved to a wheelchair for the first time. M visits, and we watch a movie. L and S come again. It's nice to joke with them, and things are returning to normal.
Sunday, the 26th. New room. Now I have a roommate. I'm sensing a pattern; after the events of yesterday I am exhausted. B comes in the morning, C comes in the afternoon, and A comes in the evening. She catches me just as I'm about to have a good cry, and makes me laugh instead. Friends are wonderful.
Monday, the 27th. I'm excited. I get to go home today! I didn't sleep well, and am looking forward to sleeping in my own bed, and eating real food. I still don't have much of an appetite, and am existing on fruit juice and rice. Dr H  and his team come to take down the foot dressing.
I was warned, all week, that my foot wouldn't look like a foot.
The dressing comes off without problem, and I see flap for the first time. The graft site is a tear drop shape, outlined with stiches and staples. The round part of the teardrop is where my arch used to be, tapering up the side of my ankle. Now I understand why the donor site is so big; the graft is two pieces of skin sewn together. It looks like someone took an air pump and inflated the right side of the foot. I feel like Frankenstien, with a  Frankenfoot. It's a shock.
Nothing can prepare me for the next half hour; the equivalent of hell breaking loose.
I still have two drains, one for the donor site, and for the graft. Dr H removes the flap drain, and I scream. Pain tingles up my leg. The drain site has become infected.
I don't clearly remember what happens next. A team assembles, and I'm told to breathe. I haven't needed painkillers all week, so I'm unprepared for the procedure. In order to clean out the infection, they have to open the flap in two places,  and three staples have to come out. Mom is at my side, breathing with me. My ipod is playing, I try to focus on the distraction, but I have to scream again. I feel tears fighting to be free. I'm scared that if I start crying, I'll lose control. They're irrigating the infected area with saline. I can't hold back any longer, I start sobbing. The pain is too intense to handle silently. I'm past caring what anyone thinks, and start praying in tongues. I couldn't tell you how long it goes on.
Finally, they are done. I'm still crying, from pain, shock, relief that the ordeal is over.
Every time I think I'm done, I start again. Mid afternoon I am able to rest. I'm emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted, so when supper comes I eat without nausea.
Four people from GCG walk in as I'm finishing up. B, L, D, and S (you know who you are :)
I've missed them, missed GCG, and the community. It's the refreshing I need. We laugh, talk, and they pray for me. Inklings of peace begin to stir up in me.
After they leave, my new roommate are I chat a bit. We've both faced cancer, so we share parts of our stories. I have a bandage change, which drives me to tears again. I've never experienced so much pain in one day.
Tuesday, the 28th. Slow day. A soon as the doctors walk in to change the dressing, I start crying, dreading the pain ahead. I'm lucid today, and manage to eat all three meals. M has brought me books, so I dive into one. R comes to visit that night, filling me in on details about how rehearsals are going for Fiddler on the Roof, the musical I'm performing in at the end of November.
Wednesday, the 29th. L and S visit, bringing me Boon Burger ice cream. They take me for a small outing down to the lobby. It's nice to get out, and I can't wait to go home tomorrow.
Thursday, the 30th. The infection is gone! But the dressing changes still drive me to tears. Because they opened the flap, they have to pack the open sites with a special gauze. After a few false starts, I'm home. Sleep overwhelms me for a few hours. I have visitors throughout the day.
There truly is no place like home.  

There Will Be Scars: When God Says Wait

Skin is amazing. It is flexible, yet strong enough to hold us together. It tells us if we're hot or cold, if we're experiencing pain or pleasure.
It tells stories. A tan says that you've been out in the sun. A blush betrays embarrassment or attraction (often at the same time)
Scars tell stories as well.
We don't choose them, but they serve as reminders of what you've gone through. Scars can be a badge of honor. "You should have seen the other guy!"
Sometimes, God allows us to become scarred.
I have more details about the surgery, which sparked all these thoughts about scars.
The operation will take eight hours, (originally it was six) and it's been moved up a day; October 20!
The hospital stay is double what we thought it would be. Now the doctor is saying 10-14 days.
I found out about the muscle, nerve and skin grafts. I'll have a five inch scar on my right shoulder blade. (News to me!) My foot will look . . . interesting.
I'm adjusting to the information. It's a process; tears are involved. I'm walking towards being okay.
Now, onto the other thing that's been occupying the space between my ears lately:
Healing.
A few Sundays ago, I was prayed over, several times. It was awesome! I love being in God's presence, and I want to be perfectly clear that I fully believe in, and receive His healing.
Over the course of my cancer journey, I have been prayed over, anointed, and cancer rebuked.

Sometimes, God says no.
Sometimes, God says wait.
Sometimes, He wants our trust.

I don't know what His timeline is. I know He has the power to heal, and He might, maybe the night before the surgery! I don't know.
Right now, the lump is still in my foot. I am in pain every day, the biting-your-pillow kind. I have prayed that it would go away.
It hasn't.
I trust God, and I see His hand EVERYWHERE, all over my life!
I'm struggling physically, but in lucid moments, I wouldn't change what has happened.
My faith is not dependent on when I get healed.
Please, by all means pray for me. Pray with me! But, if my journey is the long dark road, I'm going to need hugs and visits, too.
Much love,
Esther

Follow (Lessons Learned from Swing Dancing)

I have been wanting to take swing lessons for five years. I can finally cross it off my bucket list! It was one of those now-or-never situations. I don't know what recovery looks like, so I will dance while I can!
I've taken dance lessons in the past, and I seem to do well in lively, upbeat genres. Yes, I can tap :) (I tried hip-hop, but told I was too bouncy)
In swing, there are two positions, lead and follow.
My sister and I have done swing dancing, but since I was teaching her, I've always lead.
Until now.
Follow.
It's an accurate way to sum up the season I'm in. I love it when God takes a situation (like dancing) and gently uses it to make a point.
My instructor is great at giving feedback to make me a better dancer. One thing that keeps coming up it that I'm too tense, which leads to not executing turns correctly.
"Loosen up," he suggested. I did, and wow, it made a marked difference!
Another thing I'm struggling with is anticipating what the lead is going to do, and trying to control what's going on.
The thing that makes swing fun is the unpredictability. Once you learn the basic patterns, there's no limit to the combinations. The follow's job is to simply respond to what the lead is doing.
Last week, I has a breakthrough at the end of class.
Relaxed, I let go of trying, and effortlessly danced, turned, and trusted. How marvelous it is to follow!
I'm in a similar place with God. The future is a mystery. He has revealed small pieces of what He wants me doing, He's swung me way out of  my comfort zone and told me to trust, and follow.
I don't know the details. That is okay.
I have decided to follow Jesus, no turning back.

Much love,
Esther

Thanking God for the Fleas

I recently finished reading The Hiding Place, and it wrecked me.
For those unfamiliar with the story, The Hiding Place is Corrie Ten Boom's autobiography.
Her family ran a watch shop in Holland during world war two, which doubled as the headquarters for a smuggling operation: Jews.
A hiding place was built into Corrie's room. At one point they were hiding seven Jews, then one night the house was raided.
The Ten Booms were arrested.
Corrie and  her sister Betsy were sent to a concentration camp.
Through God's orchestration, they are able to smuggle in a Bible.
There is so much to learn from their story, but here's what I want to focus on today:
The first day in the concentration camp, Betsy and Corrie were praying. Betsy thanked God for the camp, the deplorable state of the beds and toilets, the abusive guards, and the ever present fleas. Corrie had agreed with Betsy's prayer, but she couldn't bring herself to thank God for the fleas, until a few months later. Betsy was so sick and frail, that she was put in the knitting ward-where prisoners who couldn't do hard physical labor were sent to knit socks and sweaters for soldiers.
Betsy was a gifted knitter, and every day, finished her quota by noon. She spent the rest of the day reading the Bible to the other prisoners, and praying with them. Corrie discovered that the reason Betsy was allowed, is because she and the rest of the inmates had fleas. The soldiers were frightened of getting fleas, so they stayed out of the prisoner's room.
That knocked me over. I deeply admire these women for having the unshakeable faith to praise God for the worst of trials, and that God can redeem any situation for His glory.
It reminded me of Acts 16:25, when Paul and Silas were in jail, singing hymns when an earthquake struck. The guard was about to commit suicide because he thought that the prisoners escaped, but Paul assured him that was not the case. The jailer ended up getting baptized, along with his whole family!
I've challenged myself to try to emulate the attitude I found in these two stories, using James 1:2-4 as my encouragement. "Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."
So if you hear me say "Thank-you Jesus for the fleas," you'll understand.
love,
Esther

The Beginning of the End

I've haven't been posting lately, because life has been insanely crazy and awesome. Preparing and performing for the fundraiser, practicing for and recording the single. (!!!!)
 A long-anticipated trip to North Dakota to visit a dear friend.
Radiation has ended.
I have a surgery date.
I broke.
Physically and emotionally, something in me broke last week.
Radiation ended August 25, leaving me worse off than I could have imagined. There is a radiation burn the size of a saucer around the tumor. I was in constant pain, and couldn't walk. I returned to crying multiple times a day.
I'm terrified.
The operation is much later than we expected.
Last Wednesday we received the details. On Tuesday, October 21, at 5:30 am I will check into Cancer Care. The surgery starts at 7:30am, and lasts until 1:30pm. I'm not allowed any food 24 hours after surgery, in case of complications that will need a second operation.
When they said bed rest, I didn't realize what it meant. I'm on absolute bed rest for 7 days. My left foot can't be moved or lowered at all.
There's a myriad of unknowns. The surgeon doesn't know how many nerves will be removed until he actually looks inside my foot. Full sensory abilities won't return until a year after surgery.
There will be major scarring.
I was very blessed to have almost no side effects during radiation, but now my foot is falling apart.
The tumor is dead, and angry. (I won't get into all the gory details, because believe me, they are)
God is good. He gave me an incredible Labor day weekend with two immensely Godly women. The original purpose was just a visit, then Y got engaged a few days before we went down! L and I are bridesmaids, so we took the opportunity to find dresses.
I learned more about the layers of awesomeness that make up who L and Y are. (That could take up two separate posts!)
God deepened our friendship and knit our hearts closer. He's so amazing at bringing people from three different backgrounds and ages, yet we share so many deep heart things.
He broke my heart that weekend, sharpening my mercy in a way I've never felt. He's tuning my heart to echo His.
That's just a spoonful of the thoughts swirling in the soup of my mind.
Stay tuned, cause I have more posts I'm in the process of writing!
Love,
Esther
 

In Wonder

I am in awe.
It's very hard to induce speechlessness in me, but after the fundraiser on August 20th, I couldn't even talk about it for a few days, I was so overwhelmed. (In the best way possible)
When I received the cancer diagnosis precisely two months ago, I never would have imagined the journey God was launching me on.
God is a mystery. I like it that way. I have questions that aren't answered, but I trust Him implicitly.
In moments of doubt or uncertainty, I can cling to the memories and pictures from the fundraiser.
Our family was overflowed with support and love from all circles of our life. People from work, church, theater, and our neighborhood came.
It was a privilege to be vulnerable and share my heart, my music, with our community. It was deeply encouraging to have people respond enthusiastically to my debut. All the CDs of the single sold out! The night ended in a standing ovation, which blew me away.
If only could have been God.
I woke up the morning of the fundraiser with no voice. Trying not to panic, I prayed, warmed up, and drank lots of lemon tea with honey. Considering how well the night went, I know God gave me a voice. His presence was all over how the event came together, down to the smallest details, like a full house. If any more people has come, if would have become too crowded.
God is so good at giving us what we need, even unspoken desires. I wanted to have pictures of the event, but I didn't have the time to contact anyone. Well, a family friend came, and photographed the whole night! I'm really excited to see how they turn out.
The underlying theme of the past few months has been that God is good! Sometimes it takes energy and a re configuring of our expectations, but His goodness is undeniable.
Here's the long awaited song:   https://estherkoepnick.bandcamp.com/releases
Make my day by sharing and downloading it!
Love,
Esther

By the Pricking of My Thumbs. . . (something exciting this way comes!)

I have an insane life. It probably doesn't surprise you.
Bad crazy: Cancer sucks. Good crazy:
I am now a recording artist!
I am recording a single.
As in, a song that I wrote.
It will be available for download.
It has professionally done cover artwork.
I have lost the ability to write in complete paragraphs, because that is how ecstatic I am.
I have stood outside, looking up in the sky, with a silly grin on my face, and a laugh in my throat, in wonder and awe of God.
Sometimes life is crappy. Sometimes flowers grow out of it.
And sometimes, God asks for one dream, so He can give you a different one.
This new adventure started a few weeks ago, while I was sitting at a dining room table with two very dear friends. (L and S) We are planning a fundraiser, to help my family out with medical expenses.
I'm a singer songwriter, so the event is a coffee house debut of my music. Throughout the night, L kept fishing for what my favorite song is. That's a tough call, because each of my songs hold deep meaning for different reasons. I had about three in mind, when L dropped the bomb. (my mind is a bit hazy as to what she actually said, but it was along the lines of,)
"You're going to record a single."
My brain exploded. I think I screamed. I couldn't compute.
Me. My music. Professionally recorded and produced. My words and melodies, out there to be discovered!
I couldn't talk for a few minutes. My mind was spinning with the possibilities. All I could do was stammer thank yous, laugh, and try not to cry. Recording was something I saw myself doing in a few years, after I had more music experience, but God's timeline is not mine.
It took a week to decide which song to record. The groundwork has been done, the scratch track finished.
Next week I go back to do more vocals.
It's surreal. An incredible learning experience. A gift from God.
I cannot contain my excitement to share the finished product. (once it's done ;)
Here begins a journey of thanksgiving and gratitude:
L and S, for continually taking my breath away, leaving me speechless at how incredibly good God is.
Jeremy from Given Ideas Visual Productions for shooting the amazing cover art: http://www.givenideas.com/
Eles from Eles Thiessen Music Productions, for recording, mixing, and producing the track.  http://www.elesthiessenmusic.com/ (Eles is also an amazing composer, you should definitely check out his music!)
The single is not ready yet, but trust me, you will know when it comes out!

May you be blessed!