The Resilient Widow

Hello everyone! Well, it has been nearly two months since my lost post, "Surviving the Recovery." And what a two months they have been! I can officially say that I am getting back to normal! Praise God! I am still not 100%. To be honest, I am not sure if I remember how it feels to be, "100%." But my vomiting has decreased to a few times a week, my eating has increased, and I have put on weight. All VERY good things. But this did not happen without a few kinks in the road. After the November 1st procedure that I mentioned in my last blog, things continued to go downhill, and fast. The procedure did not fix the problem, and was basically a waste of time. After that, I had a horrible few days of vomiting and was not eating a thing. My liver and kidneys began to fail. At one point, probably the worst moment of this entire process, I feared that I would not make it through the night. I actually went to sleep at my parents because I figured, well at least I won't di

CANCER FREE. Two words that I have waited years to hear. After all of the radiation, chemotherapy, and surgeries, I couldn't wait to be cancer free. Well, here I sit, cancer free, and I am unbelievably miserable. This is not what I expected. It is worse. My surgeon warned me that my recovery wouldn't be easy. He mentioned to expect 6-8 weeks for recovery, but I just brushed that off. Perhaps I should have taken him a bit more seriously. I was so focused on surviving the surgery, that I figured any recovery would be a cake walk after all that I had been through. I could not have been more wrong about anything in my life. I felt better when I had cancer. I could eat when I had cancer. I could socialize when I had cancer. I could travel when I had cancer. I was a fully functioning human being when I had cancer. And now, I am a shell. A shell of what I once was. But I am moving too fast. First things first, the surgery. The morning of the surgery was terrifying, but not as

                It is strange to think that when I woke up in the morning on October 5, 2010, that Dan was already dead. When I was in the shower, dead. Doing my hair, dead. Driving to work, singing along with the radio, dead. My world had completely crumbled from underneath me, and I was clueless. My Husband’s wonderful and loving heart had stopped beating, and I was checking work emails. The thought sickens me.                 I was in an event planning meeting around 10:15am, when my co-worker knocked on the door. She entered the conference room; her face as white as a ghost. When the words came out of her mouth, I knew. “Kristen, you need to step out. Your parents are here.” I even looked at my co-workers and said, “Well, that can’t be good.” I walked into my office to find my parents there. My Dad looked straight at me, and told me to get my stuff together and that we needed to go home. I asked why, and the following words shook me to my very core: “Dan died.” Just like that.

To-do lists. Packing. Cleaning. Organizing. That is all I have been doing for the past week. And as soon as I successfully cross something off one of my many lists, another item is added just as quickly. That is how I prepare for my surgeries; I go into extreme OCD mode. My lack of control regarding tomorrow's surgery results is to blame. If I can't control the outcome of this surgery, then I will control how clean my kitchen floor is, and how perfectly ironed every piece of clothing that I pack in my suitcase is. That's how I cope. It helps me to relax and to feel as if I have some control over my life. A girl can only clean and organize so much. So after five straight days of it, I had the chance to escape it all, and spend time with my Johnson family in Wisconsin. And even better, I got to spend a few days honoring Dan at the SrA Daniel James Johnson Memorial Golf Classic. It was just what I needed. God clearly knew what He was doing when He joined Dan and I together.

After months of deliberating, months of panic attacks, months of denial, and months of utter fear, a surgery date has been set. And it feels good. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders. It took me long enough to make the decision to proceed with this surgery, and the fact that it is quickly approaching is a crazy feeling. I have never been contradicted with so many various emotions. Fear. Anxiety. Excitement. Hope. And at this point, it is exhausting. Don’t get me wrong, the thought of being cancer free is exhilarating. I often find myself day dreaming about my life, post cancer. And it is beautiful. A career. A man who loves me and supports me. Children. I literally become   giddy as these thoughts take over my subconscious. But as quickly as they enter my mind, the leave. And they are replaced with an emptiness. A void. And that void can only be filled by one thing; my Husband. I have so many nights where I lay in bed laden with fear, and a horrible feeling of loneliness. I so

I realize that many of my blogs sound repetative. Woe is me. I have cancer. I am a widow. My life sucks. That being said, I have felt like I need to make a change in my life, but was having trouble figuring out what that change was. I realize now that it was not one big change, but multiple little changes to make my life what I want it to be. Hence my newest entry... My once boring and mundane life is now tumultuous, dramatic, scary and extremely stressful. And as sad as it is for me to admit, I have adjusted to this new life and have accepted it as normal. I have accepted my situation for what it is, and have decided to make the absolute best of it. I have been trying to change the unchangeable for the past few months, and I give up. Dan is dead. I cannot change that. I have cancer. I cannot change that. I will be having an extremely dangerous surgery in the near future. I cannot change that. I feel powerless. And that is very frustrating and tiresome. Because I cannot change those

Four years ago today, July 18th, 2008, I started dating the love of my life, Daniel James. He is not only my Husband, but my soul mate, my Hero, and my Angel. I have been so incredibly blessed to have been a part of Dan’s life. Our two years and three months together were so full of love, laughter, faith and commitment. We laughed. We dreamed. We planned a future together. We had it all, and we were so happy. Our life together was cut short. He was ripped from me in a matter of seconds, and my life was changed forever. I was changed forever. As I was sitting in my room last night, missing Dan and being so overcome with anger at where I am in my life, I decided to read through all of the emails that Dan and I had ever sent each other while he was deployed. That was the best decision I could have made. I often feel sad, lonely, depressed, scared and worthless. These feelings can be so incredibly daunting and consuming, but they are real. And I understand that many of these feelings st

Oh how I miss the days of stressing over a term paper deadline, or being nervous over an upcoming tennis match. Those days have now been replaced with stressing over my tumor, and being nervous about how my life will reconstruct itself in the future. If I have learned anything in the past three years, it is that I need to make "me time" a top priority in my life, which is something that I often have a hard time accomplishing. With all that is going on, I often find myself utterly overwhelmed. I am often so overwhelmed with various emotions, that I just shut down on the inside; robot mode. From this blog on, I am vowing to dedicate more time to me. More time to relax. More time to take a deep breath. More time to travel. More time to write. And more time to realize that I am still here, living this life.   I am not working right now, but I often find myself wishing that I was. I want something to fill my mind besides my tumultuous life. I want deadlines. I want staff meeti

As many of you already know, I have been faced with a decision. A scary, gut-wrenching, life altering decision. Let us recap: 40-40-20. Those are my statistics. I can either have surgery and, A) have a 40% chance of a successful tumor removal and valve replacement, B) a 40% chance of the surgery being deemed inoperable, or C) a 20% chance of a permanent colostomy bag, or death. OR I decide against the surgery, and walk away from it all and live my life to the absolute fullest until I can no longer do so, which I have been told may be around five years or so. That is the decision that I have been faced with. Scary, huh? Over the past six weeks, I have spent a large amount of time in a little place I like to call, "denial." I try my best to completely forget about "the decision" unless I am ready and prepared to put some serious thought into it. Otherwise, I stress, I cry, I worry and I eat chocolate. None of which are good things.   After many days of denial, nume

I have belonged to numerous "groups" over my lifetime: girl scouts, soccer teams, tennis teams, youth groups, Bible studies, study groups and many more. I have always enjoyed being a part of a team or group. There is a sense of camaraderie and unity unlike any other. And the newest group that I belong to… by far my favorite. I belong to an amazing group of women and men that we refer to as "military widow(er)s." One week ago, I was fortunate enough meet my first military widows since Dan's passing. Taryn, the founder of an amazing organization known as the American Widow Project, and Sonia, another awesome widow, and myself, all had the opportunity to get together in Santa Paula, California. We got to take part in a great adventure. We spent the afternoon triking, which is much like a seated hang glider. It was one of the best things I have ever taken part in. As we were soaring over the ocean with the sun setting in the distance, I couldn't help but se

Two years ago today, I had the immense privilege of marrying the love of my life. Two years ago today, I stood face to face with my best friend as we joined our lives together in front of our families, and our friends. Two years ago today was the beginning of the rest of our lives; or so we thought. When my friend and co-worker, David, told me that he had someone that he wanted to introduce me to, I was excited. I had never been on a so-called "blind date" before, so the thought was slightly terrifying. However, I agreed that if he didn't tell this person that it was a set-up, that I would agree to come to his Bible study and meet this mystery man. And I did. Upon first impression, I did not think that Dan was someone that I could see myself with. He was shy, quiet, and seemed completely NOT interested in me whatsoever. I left the Bible study that evening not knowing if I would ever go back. It wasn't until the Friday that followed where I felt the spark. My girlf

First and foremost, I want to update everyone on what I have been up to since my last blog. As you all know, I have been faced with an extremely difficult decision regarding my health. Do I walk away from this disease and let the tumor take its course, or do I proceed with the risky surgery that involves only a 40% chance of survial and being cancer free? Hmm... NOT a decision to be taken lightly. And I have yet to make up my mind. As of right now, my amazing Oncologist is simply buying me time. We are going to do a few more rounds of chemo, starting Tuesday, which will allow me to put some more time and thought into this life altering decision. However, if my tumor at any time stops responding to treatment and begins to grow, a decision must be made quickly. I will keep you all up to date when a final decision has been made. And thank you all so much for being so loving and supportive during this crazy and insane time of my life. I am truly blessed to be surrounded by such amazing peo

Death is something that used to terrify me. My biggest fear growing up was losing an immediate family member. As a child, it was a crippling fear. I would lie in bed at night until I heard my parents come home, and feared that they never would. Death is also something that I did not have much experience with. I have never had to bury a grandparent, or cousin, or friend for that matter. That was until I buried my soul mate, my hero, my Husband. After Dan’s passing, death became a reality to me. My biggest fear had come true; I had lost the love of my life. And it became very real, very fast. Within 24 hours of being notified of Dan’s death, I was picking out caskets, burial plots and songs to be played at his funeral. It does not get more real than that. Since Dan’s passing, I have learned to live again. I have learned to laugh, to smile, to envision a future full of love and life. These things weren’t easy, but they did happen, in time. I have learned that life after losing a loved

It's strange to think that a title I never wanted, is a title that I could not be more proud to own. The word "widow" carries so much weight with it, especially at the age of 25. When people hear the word "widow," they usually picture an elderly woman who lost her husband of 50+ years, not a 25 year old woman who lost her husband of four months. But that is the card that I was dealt. And it is even crazier to think that I have been a widow for 18 months and 21 days. Some days it feels like it happened yesterday, and some days it feels like it was a lifetime ago that I saw his smiling face, gazed into those beautiful green eyes, or heard his loving voice. I can not wait to share the story of our last moments together, and the hell the followed October 5, 2010. But that is for another blog on another day, when I have the strength to sit down and put it on paper. For now, I thought I would share some of my experiences with you since I became a widow; 18 months an

Since my first blog, I have been to Mammoth Lakes for a great vacation with my family, celebrated my 27 th birthday, got my nose pierced, and spent some time with my amazing family and friends. I am so blessed to have been able to do all of these things. However, at the end of the day, my body is not my own, and I am painfully aware of that. Cancer takes its toll on all parts of the body, mind and soul. It is physically, emotionally and mentally draining. However, probably the hardest one for me to deal with has been the physical changes that I have had to accept since my diagnosis. I have always had body issues, since I was the chubby kid in school. I have always been extremely weight conscious and have done my best to get my body to a point where I feel comfortable and proud of who I am. Well, it is fair to say that all of that went out the window when I began my chemotherapy treatments in October. The first time I ran my fingers thru my hair, only to pull out a large handful,

In one week from today, I will be turning 27 years old. Wow. When did that happen? When discussing age with friends or family, I always joke and say, "I am almost 27 and have NOTHING to show for it." I say this with extreme sarcasm, and possibly a bit of truth. Years ago, when I pictured my life at 26, I invisioned myself gainfully employed, with a loving Husband, a child or two, and my Masters degree. Snapshot of my life as it stands... No career. No Husband. No children. No Masters degree. Hmm... definitely not what I pictured. Do you ever look at your life, and not recognize it as your own? I do that on a daily basis. What is the reality of my life now? I am a 26 year old military widow and cancer patient. My situation does not allow me to chase my career goals as of right now, and that is difficult to accept, but I have. My situation has made it nearly impossible to conceive children in the future, and that is difficult to accept, but I have. My Husband and best friend is