And So We Wait

So I went in for the test yesterday.

And I think you can guess, given the way this whole thing has gone, that it didn't go as planned.

They brought me to the procedure room where they planned to do a needle biopsy

I was put into a twilight state and they would move me in and out of the CAT scan machine as they tried to find the tumors and take their samples.

Normally, the procedure takes about 45 minutes. Of course, I really didn't have any idea of what was happening, since I was mostly sedated. But after they woke up, I found out it hadn't been 45 minutes, but rather two hours! And not only had it been 2 hours, but they also broke the news that they couldn't do the procedure.

Of course they couldn't.

I guess my intestines were pretty swollen and the tumors had fallen in among them. And they just couldn't safely take the samples.

We were told that they will need to surgically take the samples... and our good doctor spent quite a lot of time trying to find someone to do the operation. But, wouldn't you know it, there isn't a doctor available who can do it until Friday. Not tomorrow. But a week from tomorrow!

And, as hard as all the waiting has been, I have found myself praying a lot during this process.

And I have realized that so much of this journey about waiting on the Lord.

And it isn't just this journey that has been this way -- but really my whole life!

I didn't go on my mission when everyone else went. I had to wait to get my answer to go.

I didn't get married when everyone else got married. I had to wait to find the right person.

And I don't get to do chemo on schedule...because the Lord had something else in mind for me.

And while I don't know what it is He has in mind, and as hard as it is, I know that God has a plan for me and that I am in good hands.

And so we wait.

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

I know you all have questions. So here it is.

Wednesday was a good day. I was mentally prepared for chemo to start on Thursday and we were just going to get on with this.

So, late in the afternoon, the doctor calls and said that they wanted to do a PET scan on Thursday.

And of course, the doctor calls me while i'm at dance with the girls and says, "I hate to give information like this over the phone, but I feel like you need to know."

They had found some shady masses on the CAT scan in the mesentery portion of my abdomen. That's the outer part of your abdomen where your intestines are located.

As hard as all of this has been, I felt like I had accepted this cancer and I was handling it. But it so felt like the last straw. Haven't I endured enough? Isn't this hard enough? 

But apparently it isn't yet. 

I was worried about this development, but Keith reassured me that this was normal and I shouldn't get anxious.

And that's the strangest thing. I went right to the darkest place. I was overwhelmed and I just lost it.

But Keith has been a rock. And keeps telling me that the feelings of peace we have should remain unchanged. The Lord knows. I am in his hands.

And I keep telling myself to hold onto that.

On Thursday, instead of starting chemo, I went in for the PET scan.

I really got up thinking that this was the worst.

On the drive over, the oncologist called to tell me that my nipple biopsy had come back pre-cancerous, rather than cancerous.

I felt relieved and at least felt like I could move forward with the PET scan.

I would tell you more about the PET scan, except that all the tests feel the same. It's another giant room with a machine that makes lots of noises.

They shoot you up with stuff and then they leave you alone for the test.

So Friday, while waiting for the results we go to Costco.

And I'm having deja vu.

The doctor says, "I hate to give information like this over the phone, but I feel like you need to know."

He tells me that the lymph nodes in my abdomen are swollen and are active.

They don't know what that means...there are many possibilities. And we are still waiting to find out.

They didn't want to go in right there because I needed a specialist to be present at my surgery. And he wasn't available until Wednesday.

So, tomorrow, I'm scheduled to have the lymph nodes biopsied.

The Good? My nipple is not cancerous.

The Bad? We are still waiting to find out. We will know a little on Thursday, but mostly we won't know the rest for another week.

The Ugly? How is it possible that I have so much fat on my stomach that I could hide 7 large tumors? I mean, I can squish around my ugly belly and feel in there and I feel nothing but fat.

Seriously. I'd invite you to see for yourself, but there is no way I'm letting you see my belly.

Honestly, in some ways I'm grateful to know what's going on with me. And in some ways I'm grateful that the information is coming one piece at a time.

Because that's all I can handle.

The New Normal

Thank you so much for fasting for me and praying for me.

I can feel your love.

So, today is the day I am supposed to be feeling awful from the effects of my first chemo treatment.

But, as with everything on this journey, you just never know what to expect.

The doctors have postponed my chemo until next week as they have decided to run a few more, just to make sure they have all their ducks in a row.

So, I sit here with my mom, sewing Halloween costumes and feeling as normal as I have since this whole thing started.

And, all in all, it's about the best place I can be right now.

One More Step

Some say that faith is reaching the edge of darkness and taking one more step.

Right now, for me, faith is reaching the edge of a cliff, not being able to see the bottom and trying to believe the people who told me that there is someplace soft to land down there.

That's what i'm hoping for today.

Radioactive

I went in for a nuclear medicine test.

It was surreal.

The nuke tech (yes, that's what they call them) comes in wearing a lead lined apron carrying a vial in a lead lined container.

She was super sweet. And said, you're so lucky. We normally don't normally used red dye.

Yay me.

And the, as she is wearing all the protective gear she possibly can, she injects me.

And she says, you need to wait here now, cause you're radioactive.

Keith asked me later, "Did you sing the song radioactive?"

For real Keith Jones?

Bad Horror Movie

I had CT scan today.

The nurse was so super friendly and was super excited to try out my mediport for the first time.

As I was laying there, I could hear the hustle and bustle around me but as I was chatting I became totally unaware of my surroundings.

All of the sudden I found myself in a bad horror movie.

The nurse moves the curtain aside and comes at me with the biggest needle ever.

And she plunges it into my chest. And I suck in and wait...and...nothing.

It went into the mediport and all was well.

Too bad my life had to flash before my eyes before I realized what was happening.

The nurse kind of laughed and said, "Oops, forgot to tell you that was going to happen."

Yeah, you did.

The next day when I saw the same nurse, she said, "You probably want to turn your head for this."

Yeah I do.

Blessed

As I was getting my 2nd biopsy I was talking with nurse. I noticed that she had a scar in the same place I have my mediport.

I was asking her if she had had a mediport and she said that she actually has one now.

She has breast cancer. She is about a week ahead of me in treatment and it turns out that she is just 5 days older than I am.

It blew me away.

Here was a kindred spirit, a sister in my same situation.

And we wept together.

I was asking her how she was feeling. She had had her first treatment last Wednesday. She said it was rough, but it was okay. She felt like she'd had the flu for 5 days and now she was working a few hours a day to get out of the house.

I asked her how she was getting by. She said that she wasn't married and didn't have kids, but that her mom had come down for the first treatment. But now she was alone.

And it made me ache for her.

Because as hard as this is, I have so much support. I have a husband who loves me. Kids that are crazy about me. And a countless number of family and friends who love me beyond reason.

And as much as I cry, I also laugh. And I have joy.

Even in this trial, I am so blessed.

$300 Mouthwash

Dr. Willilams got the full pathology from my tumor biopsy and he was concerned about some of the receptors and decided he needed to biopsy my nipple, where the original lesion was located.

In order to biopsy the nipple, they numb it and in order to numb it they insert a long needle directly into the nipple.

And they tell you it's going to hurt.

And then...picture a cartoon cat who has had their tailed stepped on and jumps to the ceiling, claws out, clinging on for deal life.

Yeah.

It hurt more than that.

I told the doctor that someone who got their nipple pierced had to be deranged.

So, then you're finally numb.

And they cut out a wedge of the nipple. It took six stitches to get the area closed.

Luckily, this part of me is going to be removed very shortly, so we are not worried about the hideous scar I now have there.

He also had me do a spit test to see if I have the breast cancer gene. It's now known as the "Angelia Jolie" test - since this is the test on which she based her decision to have a double mastectomy.

They put out three cups of scope. You have to swish each one again and again until your mouth is on fire. It just burns.

And they hand you the small bottle of scope and congratulation you on your $300 mouthwash purchase.

It's truly not how I would have spent that $300.

We get the results back in 10 days.

A Fast and A Prayer

Hi Everyone.

This is Denise, Tamee's friend.

I just wanted to let you all know that on Thursday, October 24, on Tamee's first day of Chemo, we are going to fast and pray for her.

We ask everyone who is fasting and praying to stop whatever you are doing at 1 pm, Eastern time, and pray specifically for Tamee. Pray for her by name. Ask the Lord for whatever blessings you think she needs at this time.

There is power in prayer and in fasting, and we know that our united efforts will bless her.

I know that all of Tamee's family would give anything to be here with her right now. Please know we are loving her the best we can until you get here.

xo

Denise

Moments of Faith

It was interesting Sunday at Church today was we spoke about being Mormon and being different.

A lot of people have asked me why I am handling all that is happening with what looks like to them such grace.

When I went to the doctor that very first day and he told me I might have Paget's Disease,  I called Keith right away and told him to google it.

He looked at it and said, "This isn't you. You don't have this."

And I came home that night and lay in bed. And I imagined myself dying. And I cried.

I still had so much left to do.

I am a mom of little kids - there is still a lot of life to lived - for them and for me.

And I was afraid.

The next day we went to see the specialist and Keith came with me.

But before we went to the doctor we said a prayer that we would be able to accept whatever the doctor would have to say to us. That we would have the strength to deal with it.

And in that moment of prayer and supplication to the Lord, my fear turned to faith.

And I knew that all would be well. That God would keep me and carry me.

On that second visit, when the doctor confirmed the Paget's Disease, he wanted to do an ultrasound to look for a tumor.

As I lay there and he did the ultrasound, I could clearly see the tumor. It was a large, egg shaped mass and it was as clear to me as any ultrasound I had had for my babies.

And I had a moment of clarity, of profound gratitude that I knew that thing was in me and that I was living in a place and at a time where it could be dealt with and after which I could live the life I was meant to live.

These moments of faith are in my heart on every step of this journey and it helps me to not be afraid.

And while I still ache for what is to come. And the trials that my family and I have to endure.

Honestly, I would rather not go through this at all, but if I endure it in the arms of the Lord, what more could I ask for?

My One Beauty

Today I cut my hair.

My long, beautiful hair, that I love and hide behind came off.

I didn't cry.

But as they began to cut my hair, one long strand fell into my hand and I slipped it into my pocket and took it out to the car.

As I got into the car and pulled out that strand I finally began to cry.

I felt like it was so dumb to cry over my hair, and the story of Little Women came to my mind when Jo Marsh cuts her hair.

And her little sister comes to her and says, "Jo, you cut your hair. Your one beauty."

And I cried for my hair. My femininity. One symbol of my womanhood.

And as I fight this cancer, I thought to myself, seriously...you're not crying for cancer. You're crying for your hair.

You boob.

Oh wait.

That's probably not appropriate.

But...as a bonus, I went to Ruth's Chris and ate my troubles away.

Wild Woman

I went to chemo class on Thursday. It was a lot about the day to day of dealing with chemo. Not to difficult. Just informational.

Friday, was a different story all together.

I went in for the mediport. It was way more than I thought it would be. The procedure itself was fine.

But I am not a needles, blood, hospital, medicine or drugs kind of gal. I guess no one really is, but it was rough.

As I lay in half awake state, sedated and waiting for the procedure to start, I could hear the doctors and nurses talking. They were talking about their lives and playing music.

A song came on....Home...about not fighting your demons and as I lay and listened, I started to cry.

I think the nurse thought I was in pain, but really, I was just feeling a little overwhelmed.

Laying in bed afterwards, it was really my first taste of laying around for hours with really nothing to do. The reality of what is happening began to set in.

After the procedure was over, I got up and looked at my hair and I just looked like a wild woman.

Well, Let me be clear, after I got up, I of course passed out.

And then I looked in the mirror and found a wild woman staring back at me.

Not that looking like a wild woman is anything new for me - but I really got a sense that it would be better if I made some changes.

So, I decided right then and there I need to start the process of cutting my hair and embracing what is to come.

My main focus right now is my kids and I need to be there for them and do what needs to be done so that they too can deal with what is to come.

Going Blond?

Today I met with the oncologist.

He was so funny. But he also had a lot of good information and it helped me prepare for what is coming.

He said there are three types of breast cancer and identified my type of cancer as a protein cancer.

He kept telling me that I am young and healthy. 

He also told me that I might lose a little weight while on this treatment, but that I didn't really need to. 

That alone makes him #1 in my book.

The one thing he did say was that this cancer is so treatable. That in a year, we are going  to on the other side of this. It's going to be okay.

The doctor wrote me a prescription for a wig. 

The nurse was there and said some people like shopping for the wigs because it gives you a chance to be someone else.

She asked Keith if he'd like me as a blond.

I think he's giving it some thought.

I have to say, it's these moments that make me literally laugh out loud that make it possible to keep going. 

I know you're all interested in my treatment. So here's the lowdown. 

My chemotherapy treatment is called TCH. It is commonly used to treat breast cancer.

It is made of three drugs:

- Docetaxel or Taxotere
- Carboplatin or Paraplatin
- Trastuzumab or Herceptin

Doxcetaxel and carboplatin prevent cancer cells from dividing and growing and can eventually cause the cancer cells to shrink and die. Trastuzumab is a monoclonal antibody, which targets cancer cells more precisely than chemo drugs. 

Because they want to make sure I don't have an adverse reaction to the drugs, the first treatment will be slower and longer than other treatments.

The treatments will be given by injection. 

In addition I will be given dexamthasone, an oral medication, that helps prevent some of the side effect of the treatment.

Tomorrow I go to chemo class - where they help you learn what the expect.

Friday I get my mediport inserted. A mediport is an internally installed needle accessed device that is typically used for patients that need long term IV access. This is where they will inject the chemo.

Monday, October 22 I will have en ECG to check my heart.

Thursday, October 24 is my first day of chemo. 

Then I start recovery to do it all again in 3 weeks. 

The doctor thought I would need 6 to 8 rounds of chemo, every three weeks follwed by surgery.

So, I guess this is really happening. 

I am getting your messages and it really does help, I just don't feel up to responding to each one - I hope you know that I really do feel loved.

Thank you too for your prayers. I feel them too! 

Dealing With It

Isn't it interesting how everyone deals with tragedy?

Keith...the more information better. The knowledge he gains each day helps him feel like we are moving in the right direction and doing the right thing.

Garrett. He's the funny one. I don't know where he gets that from. Whenever it gets difficult or uncomfortable he cracks a joke. Keith doesn't know what to make of it. Unfortunately for Garrett, he keeps hearing about all these people who died from cancer and he is worried that I might die too. I often reassure him that everything is going to be okay.

Kendall is forever writing me notes. She keeps drawing pictures of her and me holding hands. All the drawings have broken hearts and the sweetest words. The one she gave me today said, "I know the breast cancer will go away."

Taryn is our oversharer. Again. I don't know where that comes from. She tells everyone she sees, "My mom has breast cancer." The neighbors know. Perfect strangers know. 

Alina. She knows something is wrong, but it expresses itself in neediness and naughtiness. Last night she painted my bedspread, herself and her brother in orange nail polish. As I am typing this, she poked her straw through my coke cup and it spilled onto the floor. Sweet girl.

Landon doesn't really understand. He's still sweet as ever, although maybe he hugs a little longer and tighter than before.

Me. I mostly just want to forget about it. More information doesn't help. 

I have to admit that I am at the point in my journey where I hope the next doctor is going to tell me they made a mistake. That I don't really have cancer. That they got my results mixed up with someone else's. 

I know that isn't going to happen and mostly, I just want to do what the doctors tell me to do and get to the end. 

It's that patience thing again. I'm already ready for this to be over. 

Think Bananas

We met with the surgeon today, Dr. Williams.

He confirmed that there was in fact a tumor in my breast, as he had seen on the MRI and mammogram.

He expressed some frustration that not all the information was back on the receptors...and he is wondering if there is something else behind the nipple, but he couldn't see it clearly...so far it was showing up as a shaded mass.

Either way, he feels like the chemo will take care of the cancer and whatever isn't taken care of by the chemo will be removed during surgery.

We started talking about my surgery...and the different types of mastectomies that are possible. Nipple sparing. Skin sparing.

He felt like he could save the nipple on my left breast. They will simply remove all the breast tissue on that side and replace it with an implant. This leaves that nipple with sensation.

You have to imagine that as we are having this discussion, he is addressing both Keith and I, while he is actually touching and probing my breasts and demonstrating by pointing how my nipple with still be able to get erect.

I wish you could have seen Keith's face.

Of course, that was nothing compared to what happened when he pulled up the photos of my breasts on his computer. He was showing us where the incisions would go and what the scars would look like.

He pointed out how my boobs had gotten long and are no longer perky. Think bananas.

He wanted us to see how they would look with the procedures he was describing, so he pulled up photos of other womens' breasts.

I was really interested in what the doctor was showing me, while at the same time, as the doctor scrolled through various sets of boobs, Keith continued to move a little further away with each set until he was standing at the door.

It isn't that Keith isn't supportive, but I think it was feeling a little wrong to him to stare at other people's breasts.

The doctor was showing how much better my post surgical breasts would look if I got a double mastectomy as opposed to a single one. And obviously, how they look isn't really my main concern, but let's be honest, if I have to go through this, new perky boobs are just a bonus.

Where To Put Your Hands?

I got a letter in the mail with the results of my mammogram.

I don't know why, but I thought it was hilarious that they wanted me to know that my results were abnormal and that I should NEVER ignore breast cancer.

I guess it's good they told me, cause I was thinking of doing just that.

Today was a little rough.

I had a breast MRI.

When I got to the hospital, they put me onto a table and had me lay on my stomach on top of a metal rod with my boobs in handy little cups. They had me lay with my arms above my head - like superman - and hooked me up to an IV.

SUPER comfortable.

I thought the scan was going to be a piece of cake. I was just laying there and it seemed to be going fine.

Then they started the IV with the stuff that would show up on the scan. All of the sudden I started to feel woozy and light headed. The stuff makes you feel all warm and have the chills at the same time.

So crazy.

I was squeezing the call button for the nurse, but because the scan had already started, there wasn't really anything they could do for me.

The nurse said if they stopped now they would have to start again.

So I did what any self respecting woman would do. I passed out.

When I came to, they were pulling me out of the machine. The nurse said she was sure I was okay because she could see me twitching.

She sat me up and I had just enough time to yell, "TRASH" when a nurse shoved the can under my face so I could throw up and pass out again.

Good thing there were three nurses there, because all three of them had to catch my naked self and get me back onto a bed.

I am sure they were wondering where to put their hands.

Good times.

I am feeling fine now, just a little tired.

Good friends helped me organize my garage.

I'm getting everything in order for the days to come.

I know they will be difficult, but I feel very much in the hands of the Lord and I know He will bless and keep me.

Thank you for all your kinds words and thoughts. I cannot express how loved we feel.

My Eyes Are Up Here

I was surprised at how difficult it was to tell my parents I had cancer.

No parent ever wants to hear that about one of their children.

You never want your children to suffer, or hurt or feel any kind of pain.

I hurt for them and for all of my family and friends.

At first telling everyone was really hard, but by the time you've told the 12th person, there are just no more tears.

I still cry at random times throughout the day, but it's more about feeling overwhelmed than about anything else.

All the news of the cancer is now in my past and now I'm more worried about today and tomorrow.

I've spent a lot of time comforting people and letting them know that I'm okay. That everything is going to be okay.

It's true. It's going to be okay.

The craziest thing for me is that I've started having conversations with people that all start the same way.

"Hi. I have cancer."

Sounds like I should be in a meeting. My name is Tamee Jones and I have a problem.

Talking to people about my cancer has also been such a strange thing.

Some people stare at my boobs.

For real.

They hold my hand and tell me how sorry they are and they do it all while staring at my chest.

It kind of makes me laugh.

Don't get me wrong. Everyone has been beyond kind and I know they are all struggling to find the right words.

I just need to see the humor in all of it or I will drive myself crazy.

My Best Kept Secret

Sunday came way too fast.

Thinking about facing everyone and talking endlessly on about my diagnosis was not something I was looking forward to.

When I got up, I saw Keith had left me a note that said, "Good luck today. I love you."

What a good man I have. How blessed I feel to have such a wonderful companion.

And the good moment lasted just about that long - a moment, because Sunday morning chaos erupted around me.

Hello family. Let's get ready for church.

I thought with all the feelings of the last few days that we would wake up on a spiritual high and all peace and serenity would  reign in our home.

Not so much.

By the time I got all my grumpy kids to church, we were late and the only open seat was at the front.

Lucky me.

Alina was super grumpy. Par for the course. And Garrett spent quite a bit of sacrament meeting worried that I was going to die.

Holy smokes.

Keith was conducting and used the opportunity to talk about our situation and to bear his testimony.

He started by talking about how he sometimes heard people get up and bear their testimony and say how they'd had a hard week.

And he would wonder why their week was hard.

And then he said that he'd had a hard week.

He spoke about the great comfort and peace we felt and the reassurance that we had that everything was going to be okay.

We both have felt very strongly that God intended this trial for us and that everything was going to be fine.

Keith also spoke about his great love for me and how he felt like he was a better person for having me in his life.

It was beautiful.

And kind.

And loving.

And perfect.

At some point, I too felt prompted to bear my testimony and I got up and shared how much peace we feel and how I too have felt the reassurance from the Lord that everything was going to okay.

I also shared how good a man Keith is. And how sad I was, in a very selfish way, when he got called to be the Bishop, because Keith was my best kept secret.

Since I'm so much the face of our family, not a lot of people knew what a great guy Keith is, and now my secret was going to be out and I was going to have to share him.

One sister bore an especially meaningful testimony that I wanted share. She shared how one day she had gotten a call at work that something had happened to her husband.

He was in bad shape and she rushed home to his side. When they got him to the hospital, it was a very desperate situation and the doctors did not predict a good outcome.

In fact, they thought the outcome so poor that they were extremely concerned when she did not react as they expected.

She had received a strong reassurance that her husband was going to be fine. So strong, in fact, that she wasn't concerned when the  doctors predicted her husband's death.

They even called for social services to make sure she hadn't lost her mind.

But, sure enough, her husband was talking the next day and home by the end of the week. And she knew it would be so.

We feel very much the same way and hope that you too will feel the peace we feel.

I'm Am So Much a Martha

Today we spent a lot of time asking, "WHY?"

Why me?

Why did I get breast cancer when I have spent the last 9 years nursing babies? Doesn't that really lower your risk? I wrecked my poor boobs with all that nursing and this still happened?

I'm 42. I'm just too young! Seriously, have you seen me? I'm young.

I'm healthy. I am going back to the gym. I'm eating salad like it's going out of style. I should have had a few more cheeseburgers if this was going to happen anyway.

I have no family history of this. Really, us Hatch women are a hardy lot.

Why now? Keith is the Bishop. We are away from family. Haven't we been giving all that we can give? Now you want my boobs too?

Hasn't my poor body been though enough ? Haven't I sacrificed enough just to bring all these little people to this earth? Seriously...5 kids under 10. I'm doing my part.

Don't all these questions seem pointless and silly and slightly selfish?

But I can't stop thinking about it and wondering why.

Well, thank goodness for family.

Keith's brother, Randall, send us a link to a Conference talk, about how God helps us turn our weaknesses into strengths.

After spending the day talking about why, and then reading this Conference talk, we decided we needed to go to the temple.

We talked about how we are given trials in this life that hone in on our weaknesses, so that we can turn them into strengths, and ultimately, become more like our Heavenly Father.

It made me think about my own weaknesses and my own strengths. And let's be honest, for me, it's all about my weaknesses.

So, with these thoughts in my head, while I was at the temple I saw a painting of Martha and Mary. And I realized that I am very much a Martha.

I am a doer. I can't sit. I can't wait. I need to get things done.

The things of this world press upon me and I have to make sure that I am doing my part.

I often feel like I can work my to heaven, and of course, that's not exactly how it works.

Because, even if I do all that I can I will fall short. I require Jesus Christ to make up the difference between what I can do and what is truly required. Justice says I alone am not enough.

But thank goodness for mercy and grace - which make up for all of my shortcomings.

And I know that my weakness is that I have trouble being like Mary.

Sitting. Absorbing. Allowing others to serve me and show me grace and mercy.

I can honestly tell you right now, this cancer isn't going to kill me - but learning how to be still, and embrace mercy and accept service from others just might.

Attending the temple was a huge blessing and we felt such a sense of peace. It was wonderful.

After coming home Keith sent an email to ward letting them know about my diagnosis and directing them here for more information.

The journey begins...

Tamee was diagnosed on Monday (10/7) when she went to see a skin doctor for a sore on her breast that had not healed over several months. When the skin doctor saw it, he said it was likely cancer and referred her immediately to a specialist. The type of cancer on the surface of the breast – called Paget’s Disease – is rare and is almost always accompanied with a cancerous tumor inside the breast. Tamee saw the specialist the following day. He confirmed that it was almost certainly Paget’s Disease and performed an ultrasound that discovered the tumor. He took samples of the tumor and a spot in her lymph nodes that he was concerned about. On Thursday, he received the pathology report that confirmed that both the tumor and the spot in the lymph node were cancerous. Obviously, that is difficult news to hear. However, the doctor expressed confidence that the cancer could be effectively treated with chemotherapy and surgery.    

So, at this point, we are putting our trust in the Lord. Ever since that initial appointment with the specialist where he discovered the tumor, we have felt a strong sense of peace. So, we will move forward with confidence that Tamee will have to strength to meet the challenge and that all things will be for our good. Right now, Tamee feels fine. So, we are just enjoying time as a family. Next week she will have an MRI and meet with an oncologist. As more information becomes available, we will update the blog.          ----Thanks, Keith


This is Paula---Tamee's sister.  Tamee and her family need some privacy at this time and ask that rather than calling or dropping by, you leave words of encouragement and support on this blog as well as using it as a source of information and updates on her progress toward recovery, so that they can have time as a family to spend with their children and each other.  Thanks so much for your cooperation and understanding.