Milestone

Confession time.

I have been freaking out for the past couple of weeks.  I didn't really share it with anyone because I didn't want other people to be freaking out as well. Besides, I knew it was probably all in my head. A little seed of doubt that is always present, exploited by the enemy to steal away my peace of mind, and dare I say it, my joy. Even though I knew that, I couldn't help but freak out.  I filled out a prayer request form at church a couple weeks ago and knew people were praying for me to have peace that passes all understanding. I even met with one of our pastors yesterday for prayer. I would have some periods where a few hours would go by without my worry. But it would inevitably return.

You see, it is October. Every October, I am due to "check in" with my oncologist, Dr. P.  I've noticed a pattern leading up to the appointment of increased anxiety. It seemed to be at its worst this time around. What do you do when you're freaking out in the middle of the night? Thinking that you are feeling tumors in your body, that really are your rib cage and sternum?  Are they really that bumpy? I guess without breast tissue they are.

Two and a half weeks ago, I started serious training for my first marathon in January.  The reason I bring this up is that I've been feeling the effects of the longer runs, especially in my lungs. It's not pain, just a sensation that they are being used, stretched.  But that didn't help my peace of mind at all.  After all, maybe that sensation was cancer in my lung tissue.

I wasn't really freaking out about how a recurrence would affect me. It was more playing out the scenarios in my head about how it would affect my family. I imagined Dr. P feeling around and coming to a bump and pausing with a concerned look and palpating. Then recommending further testing of some kind that would confirm my worst fear. It was back. I wondered how I would tell the kids that the cancer was back. I wondered how they would get to all their activities and school without me in the picture.  How long could I make it with mets?  Would it hurt? Would I be around for Olivier's high school graduation? What about poor Jean-Marc? What about Isabelle? To be the only girl in a house full of Jamois men. Oh la la. This is macabre, I know. But I even thought about what kind of memorial service would be held once I had gone to be with the Lord.

What a waste of energy and emotion. I knew that, but couldn't help but be drawn into that vortex of "what if."  It sucked.

So today was the big day. I went on a 14 mile training run this morning-my longest run ever. It was on my schedule, and I figured why not?  Can a sick person really run 14 miles? No. But maybe?

The appointment itself was pretty uneventful. Dr. P knows I like to run, and I mentioned that I started doing triathlons this year. He told me 3 years ago that he does tris, so we chatted about what races I had done this year as he started his exam. He felt the lymph nodes in my neck, checked my lungs and heart. Then he had me lie back while he did the palpitation part of the exam. He felt around on my chest, abdomen,  internal organs, etc.  Unlike my freak out scenarios, he did not stop. It was all over pretty quickly.

He wants me to take another estrogen level blood test to see where my levels are. As usual, I asked for a Vitamin D test too.  He recommended a pap test-I haven't had one of those for 3 years. He also said to keep popping the tamoxifen, which I'm happy to do. He said recent studies recommend taking it for 10 years. That's fine with me.

Then he said, "Well, it has been over 3 years now. That is a milestone."  Really? I didn't ask for specifics, but I'm assuming that its a milestone in the whole survivor dance.  Maybe I should have asked about it. Does that mean my chance of recurrence goes down?  Maybe I'll e-mail him and ask. Not that it really matters, but maybe it will make me less anxious come next April when I have to do this all again.

What ifs

I've been training for my first half marathon of 2013, which is coming up this Sunday in Carlsbad. I use a training app from Runner's World called "Smart coach" which tells me which days to run, how far, and how fast.

Getting back into running after training and doing the 3 Day last November hasn't been easy. I felt like I lost my "base" of running fitness. The first few weeks were brutal, but I stuck it out. After a month (late December), I started to feel pretty good again. I was no where near as fast as I was last Spring, but at least a run didn't feel like torture!  For the past month, I've been doing about 30 miles per week, with my longest run being 11+ miles. By all measures, I am ready for 13.1 miles on Sunday. I know I won't set a personal record (PR), but I should be able to at least be competitive with my times from last year. If I could maintain a 10 minute mile, I would be thrilled, but I think 10:30 is more realistic.

But this week I feel like lead!  The training app had me run 4 miles Tuesday and Wednesday, then a tempo run of 5 miles today. Tuesday's run was great. While I wasn't really trying to run fast, I did. (Which made up for a bad run on Sunday that I have legitimate excuses for: it was hotter than normal; I had eaten lunch just an hour before; and it was a hilly route). But yesterday's run was tough. Then today at the gym, I barely hung on for the 3 miles at a tempo pace.  When I finished, I was beet red and annoyed at myself. What the heck?  The trainer is telling me to run an easy 4 tomorrow and rest on Saturday. I think I'm going to rest tomorrow instead, although it will be hard not to run because I have a new Garmin to try out.

I've been getting plenty of sleep and eating very well this week. Actually, better than most weeks. I've been drinking more water. I would have expected to be feeling on top of the world instead of dragging myself through workouts. I should be wanting to run MORE because I feel so strong, not less. What's up with that?  I was hoping to end this race training feeling like I could kick some serious bootie.

The point of this post isn't the nitty gritty of my training, though.

It's the mental skirmish that has started because of it.  You see, I just can't have a bad day or two.  My mind instantly goes to....am I having bad workouts because I'm sick? Could I be fighting one of the myriad of viruses that is going around right now?  Olivier did comment about feeling a little "off" this morning. Or even worse....has cancer has come back?  Is my body using its energy to fight evil mutating cells??  I have enough energy to get through my day otherwise.  But what if....what if....what if....

I hate the what ifs.

Being grateful

One song I enjoy running to is Kelly Clarkson's "What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger."  I've always believed that to be true in life. Each situation we face makes us adapt, change and grow to deal with and, hopefully, overcome it.

I spent several years working with an birth education and advocacy group, The International Cesarean Awareness Network (ICAN). My involvement grew out of my own bad experience with Olivier's cesearan birth in 1999. As I became more aware of the physiological and political issues surrounding the birth industry, I was able to go on to have two amazing home births with Isabelle and Jean-Marc. I got involved in ICAN, a group that I found much support and information from during my subsequent pregnancies. I like to think that I helped other women avoid some of the same mistakes that I made the first time around. My cesarean experience definitely made me stronger, but it took me a long time to get to the point of saying that I was grateful for that experience. But now, I can honestly say that I am grateful for my cesarean and for the person it forced me to become.

A new friend, (who found me through this blog), mentioned an interview with "Soul Surfer" Bethany Hamilton. Bethany was asked if she could do her life over, would she have not gone surfing that day or gotten out of the water before the shark came?  And she said, "No", because she has been able to reach so many more people to tell them about her faith and God's love than she ever would have if she'd remained a normal surfer girl.

That got me to thinking...will I ever be able to say that I am grateful for my cancer? Maybe not grateful, but would I ever wish that it didn't happen to me if I could have it all to do over?

Honestly, I don't know right now. Sometimes I look back on what I went through and it doesn't even seem real. Did that really happen to me?  It doesn't take long before I have a glance in the mirror and see my scarred body to confirm that, yes, it did.

If it weren't for the lingering specter of recurrence, I probably could get to the point of being grateful someday. Even with the lymphedema that will always be an issue in my life, I could probably get to that point.  But the thought of the cancer coming back at any time really plays games with your head, because its never really over.

That being said, I can think of some things that I appreciate having gone through cancer and treatment that I would not have necessarily experienced if I did not have the experience.  First of all, I have been able to experience the love, care and keeping of God in a way I never had before. It was experiential at times. It was palpable. I think of my biopsy or my surgery, when I could actually feel the presence of the Lord with me, keeping me, whispering scripture into my mind to bring me peace and calm.

I learned through experience that God's promises in the Bible are true. Things like, "I will not leave you or forsake you." (Hebrews 13:5-6) Or the promise from Joshua 1:9 that I wore on a necklace to every chemotherapy appointment: "Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." Even simple things like being able to sleep at night because "He gives to His beloved sleep." (Psalm 127:2)  I KNOW these things are true because He did them for me. Based on that, I can rest assured that the rest of the promises in the  Bible are true as well.  (Which really puts one in a place of peace during these crazy times.)  Even if the cancer comes back and is what ultimately makes this body die, I know based on the promises in His Word where I'll be, because "to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." (2 Corinthians 5:8)

Another thing I appreciate is the fellowship of other breast cancer survivors. What an amazing bunch of people they are!  Most of them not only have or are going through treatment, but they all try to help others in some way. Many do help through participating in walks or events and raising money for cancer charities. Others have informative blogs, or give back by volunteering to help run support groups and working one on one with women as they go through treatment.  We don't all see eye to eye on all issues related to breast cancer, treatment, pink ribbons, etc. But we all respect each other's experience and I always feel a genuine warmth from all of them.

Having had breast cancer has certainly put the women in my family on alert, as well as many of my friends and acquaintances. If it could happen to me at 40, it can happen to anyone.  Hopefully this heightened awareness will lead every woman to check her breasts regularly, know what they feel like, know what is normal so if there are any changes, she can alert her care providers immediately. I believe that is even more important than mammograms. (Remember...I had a "clean" mammogram a month before I was diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer!)

While I will never reach the celebrity of Bethany Hamilton, I hope that my experience has reached out and helped others. I hope that people can see evidence of God's love through my experience and be strengthened in their own faith.

So while I am not "grateful" that I had cancer, I am beginning to see how God has used it for good purposes.  I know that He works all things together for the good (Romans 28:8).  I pray that this list of things that I have come to appreciate grows as I reflect on the past 25 months and move forward in my "post-cancer" life.

Attack!

When it rains, it pours.

I've been having one heck of a time lately.  Things just keep piling on.  In the midst of it all, I have been having renewed fears of recurrence.

Where to start?  First off, an uncle that has been a part of our family all of my life died suddenly last week. It came as quite a shock, even though I had not seen him in many years. With Facebook, our family feels very connected, even if we don't see each other that often.  Of course, I wanted to go up to Oregon for the celebration of life and to spend time with the family.  Making arrangements is kind of stressful, especially when you are trying to coordinate with others.  That alone would be enough, right?

Jean-Marc has been having this cold that never ends. I'm usually very low-key about minor illnesses.  Last Saturday, his eyes started oozing and were red. I immediately thought...pink eye!  I started using some homeopathic drops that I have, as much as he would let me. He hates the drops and squeezes his eyes shut tight. But a little gets in, and it seemed to help. Nevertheless, I kept him out of Sunday school on Sunday and preschool this week. Right there, that upsets my "routine." I know it sounds petty, but I am a creature of habit. I have my workouts and things I like  need to do while he is at school. Like get out of the house and RUN.  Running is my way of feeling like I am beating cancer. The runs I did take were later in the afternoon and I just felt sluggish. I did the miles, but it was tough.

Today, Jean-Marc started complaining of a sore throat. Considering that I'm going out of town in two days and Eric is already grumbling about having to pull my weight as much as his, I thought I'd take him in to see if it was strep throat.  We spent the morning at Kaiser. Luckily, it wasn't strep. However, it was diagnosed as an "acute sinus infection."  Maybe I shouldn't have, but I opted for an antibiotic. With me going out of town for a few days, hopefully it will knock out whatever he is dealing with so he can be in shape for the weekend with dad.

Now for confession time. Our family has been battling head lice for the past few weeks. It's not a complete secret-the school knows about it. The whole 5th grade got checked the day I reported it and the news spread like wildfire. Poor Isabelle. But she coped with it pretty well. It is hard to see your kids be ostracized for something like that.  It isn't as disgusting as I thought it would be, but it is persistent, frustrating, and time consuming. It started with Isabelle. She had been complaining of an itchy head for awhile, so I took her to the doctor. She has always had dandruff, so when the doctor said it was that, I didn't second guess her. When the itch didn't stop, I e-mailed and asked for a referral to a dermatologist.  Another doctor responded with a prescription to a medicated shampoo called "Derma smoothe," saying that a dermatologist would prescribe that anyway. Fine. We did it.  The itch went away for awhile and we thought all was well. When the itch came back, we did another treatment. The next morning, Isabelle showed me the shower cap that she had slept in and there were dead bugs in it! Still in denial, I googled, "bugs in hair that are not lice."  Bottom line, there ain't such a thing.

Off we were to the pharmacy for the over the counter treatment. We did everyone in the house. The shampoo is the easy part. Then you have to stand there and comb out the nits. The first night, I spent nearly 4 hours on Isabelle. We checked daily for a week and then re-treated her 8 days later. It all seemed to be fine. We went ahead and treated everyone in the home. Jean-Marc had a few, as did I. I thought we had put it behind us, but then about 5 days ago, I notice nits in Isabelle's hair. This time, they are smaller and are slipping through the comb. We are spending hours a day at this, seemingly to no avail. I realized today that this has really taken a toll on Isabelle and I particularly. I found a service called "Hair Angels." They will come to your house and guarantee to get rid of it for you. Granted, its not cheap. But we've already invested nearly $100 in over the counter poison that we are putting on our heads. Eric hasn't consented yet. Hmm.  Let him spend a few hours this weekend with Isabelle's hair and maybe he'll change his tune.

For the past few nights in the middle of the night, I've been having moments of panic, even while semi-asleep. Fears of recurrence.  The first night, I tried a trick that has worked for me in the past. I just imagine Jesus. Or I'll repeat in my mind, "Jesus...Jesus...Jesus."  It didn't work. I just kept imagining the stitch in my side being an internal organ riddled with cancer.  (I did a pretty intense Jillian DVD on Monday that has made me sore all week.)  But this middle of the night battle has made me a bit on edge.  The strange thing, is that this all goes on while I am asleep. But I'm aware of the dialogue in my head. It truly is a spiritual battle and I am under attack by the enemy. He wants to destroy anything good and rob me of my joy. Last night,  I started mentally singing a song from church, "Jesus Messiah, name above all names, Blessed Redeemer, Emmanuel. The rescue for sinners, the ransom from heaven, Jesus Messiah, Lord of All..."  I remember having to do this two or three times throughout the night. But it worked.

Today I realized all of this happening together is definitely a spiritual attack. Just being able to identify it as such has helped me cope, although I'm still frustrated with the hair situation. So please pray for me as I continue to battle on. He who is within me is greater than he who is trying to come against me!

It was that time....

It had been 6 months since I last saw my oncologist, Dr. P.  I made the appointment a few weeks ago and since then have been anxiously awaiting today's date. 

It is so easy to psych yourself out about recurrence. Every little ache, pain, twitch or sensation sends your right into the "what if" zone.  I've had a little stitch in my right side off and on for the past few weeks. Is it just something from working out?  You know, a sore muscle or a stitch like when you are running? I wouldn't say it causes me pain, but it was something I noticed. Is that what Dr. P meant 6 months ago when he said to come back if I felt pain?  Should I tell him about it? Or maybe just not mention it, and hope it was nothing?  Oh the bliss of being like an ostrich with my head buried in the sand. But what if it was something and I didn't say anything. In 6 months it would be much worse, right? But then again, any recurrence for me means that I've gone to stage IV, which is incurable. Would 6 months really make a difference?

All these things were swirling around my head today as I waited in the exam room in the oncology department at Kaiser. The place where on the wall there is a folder for hospice referrals and information. I did my best to read my Kindle and keep my mind off of these questions as I waited.

Dr. P came in. Except for a new beard, he looked pretty much the same. His nurse had asked me at the intake if I exercised. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it is a standard question? Or perhaps my blood pressure indicated something? (I'm hoping in a good way)  Anyway, had told her that I exercised 6 days a week. She asked me for how long each time. Gosh, that's pretty hard to say. Training for the 3 day means 3+ hours of walking some days. I told her on average 1 1/2 -2 hours a day. That's a fair estimate. So when Dr. P came in, he mentioned that I was good and active.  We chatted a bit about the 3 Day, and I told him about my goal of a half marathon in January.  I asked if he would order a Vitamin D test, which he entered into the computer on the spot. (Have I mentioned I love Kaiser's electronic medical records?) 

He asked if my periods had stopped. Yep. Haven't had one of those since a year ago September.  In another year or so, he said we would do some blood work to make sure my ovaries were no longer producing estrogen and if that was the case, switch me from Tamoxifen to another drug that has even better outcomes in preventing recurrence. Sounds good to me.  ( A little voice in my head is saying...can we just take out the ovaries and switch me now?? I'm only half joking when I say that!)

He did the typical exam. He checked the lymph nodes in my neck, listened to my breathing, my heart, and pressed around a bit on my abdomen. He said everything looked good.  I still had not mentioned anything about that pain sensation in my side. I asked him what I should be looking out for. His quick response was, "a long and happy life." Yeah, okay. You bet. But in the pain department, what should I be concerned about?

His answer was that pain was usually in the central torso region. In the back of the ribs, or sometimes in the hips. I described to him what I was feeling. It was out! Would I regret this? He asked me a few questions. Does it come and go? Yes. Does it slow you down? No. In fact, sometimes I think it may just be a muscle cramp. But, you know, I'm a "survivor" so I am paranoid.  In the end, he told me he was not concerned about it. If I wanted to have some blood work done (liver function, CBC), he would order it.  Since I was already going to get poked for the Vitamin D, why not?  So I'm off in about an hour in between picking kids up at the middle school and elementary school to get some blood drawn.

You'd think that I would be relieved after all of this. In a way, I am. I was honest with the doc about what I had been feeling, and it did not raise any concerns for him. I won't have to go back and do this for another 6 months.  But I still have bouts of the "what ifs."  Perhaps with time that will ease.

When I do have those moments of terror (and sometimes they ARE terrifying, especially in the middle of the night when there is nothing to distract me from my own thoughts), I try to remember something very simple. Or actually, someone. Jesus. I am instantly calmed. One night a few weeks ago, in fact, I actually had this running back and forth dialogue with the evil voice in my head that was freaking me out. It was almost like those cartoons with the little angel on one shoulder, and the devil on the other.  A hot flash had woken me up. The bad voice would say something like, "Cancer" or "Recurrence" and an image of me wasting away in front of my kids would pop into my head. My heart skipped a few beats, my breathing got rapid, and continued to sweat. (The hot flash had gotten me started). Then the good voice (which I believe was the Holy Spirit) would say simply, "JESUS." I would feel calm, protected, and loved. Then right afterwards, the bad voice would say it again. Then the Spirit would again reply, JESUS.  This went on for several minutes. Talk about a spiritual battle! 

I must always remember that my life is in His hands. Only He knows the number of my days. Being anxious and nervous does nothing to add to them. In fact, it diminishes the quality of life that I do have.  My job is to trust in Him. That gets easier to do as I reflect on how much He has actually been with me throughout my life, and particularly on this chapter of it.

May you feel the love of Christ in your life today!

Under attack!

I'm going to be speaking at a women's ministry breakfast later this month at my church, Calvary Chapel of Escondido. (October 22nd for you locals).  I've known about the event for some time, but had been putting off preparing for it. Of course, that started to stress me out when October 1 rolled around.  Last week, I sat down and started to think about what I would share.

One reason for putting it off, frankly, was that I knew it would force me to go back and re-live the past 18 months. I also was afraid that I wouldn't have anything to say. I didn't want to sound lame, you know?

The first day I worked on it, I was very anxious. Re-living June 2010 just added to my sporadic bouts of paranoia about recurrence. It definitely put me into a funk.  But as I continued to work on it, my mood changed. Initially, it was because I was making progress and it reassured me that I wouldn't be doing it right before the event.  Not only was my talk taking shape, but I could see how it was going to go beyond just my testimony. I have a message and an exhortation that I want to give as well.  Besides, I've never been much of a procrastinator. But it went deeper than that. Going back and looking at this blog and re-living it in a compressed period of time was actually helpful to me. I could see how present God was throughout the whole thing.  Living it day by day it was easy to miss HIM in the whole thing.  How the Lord would send me a Word at the right time to help me get through. I actually began to enjoy working on my talk.  It also helped calm my paranoid anxiety about recurrence. God is in control!  I just needed to be reminded of that.Things were going along just great.

Several things have cropped up since last weekend that I feel like are part of an attack by the enemy.

• First off, my foot. It still is giving me trouble. I did a 6 1/2 mile training walk earlier this week, and by the end, I was feeling it. Yesterday in bible study, we were talking about pride and how it says all over the bible that pride will bring you down. I realized that not taking time off of the walking training was a form of pride for myself. I could boast about how far I walked, regardless of an injury. That was just going to make it worse if I kept it up. So I decided to take a week off of the walking training. I'm still able to do low-impact things at the gym (bike, elliptical, etc). So I'll keep working out. But I want to give my foot a rest. But it has been a source of anxiety for me. I need for it to heal so I can walk in the 3-Day!
• Secondly, Jean-Marc has an inguinal hernia. He had one as an infant, so when I saw the tell tale bulge on Sunday night, I knew right away what it was. We went into the pediatrician on Monday and, sure enough, I was right. We have an appointment to see the pediatric surgeon down at Zion next week. I'm not looking forward to this at all. We've been through it, so I know what to expect. But now he will be asking questions, wanting to eat the morning of the procedure, and I dread the moment when I have to leave him alone with the nurses and doctors. Not so much for me, but I know he will be scared. On top of all of that, I'll be back in the pre-op area of Kaiser. Last time I was there was for my mastectomy in July 2010.I know the sights, smells, and sounds will trigger stuff for me. I'm not looking forward to that.
• Finally, in the middle of the night, I awoke with a pain in the middle of my back. I got up at 3 a.m. and tried to strech, but nothing helped. I took 3 Advil and laid flat on my back. Fortunately, I was able to get back to sleep. But the pain was pretty bad. Of course, that sent my brain into, "Oh my gosh...what if it is a recurrence and I have cancer in my bones?"  Being in the dead of night didn't help any. It was still bad this morning. I called my chiropractor and was able to get in first thing this morning. I was a little fearful of going in, becuase I could just hear him say that from his point of view, nothing was wrong. (Hence, the cancer was back.)  But I went in anyway. As it turns out, I have a muscle in my back that is all inflamed and spasm-y. They ultrasounded it, which felt good. Then he adjusted me and advised that I continue with the anti-inflammatories. That should be good for my foot as well. I'm glad that its not cancer, but it still hurts. 
• I go back to see my oncologist, Dr. P, on Monday. It's my first 6 month check up. I'm a little nervous about it.  Its just adding to the anxiety. 

I know that I should be anxious about nothing. This morning, I prayed that verse from Phillipians. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything in prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make your requests be made known to God, and the peace that passes understanding will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.

Anxiety is a common battle for me these days. To have all these other anxiety-producing things going on, it just feels like these are the arrows of the enemy. Aiming at my peace. Aiming at my faith. Seeking to kill and destroy me if I let them. Seeking to distract me from what I know is true. Perhaps even to derail me from the course I'm taking with my talk later this month.

In any event, I'm glad I recognized all of this for what it is. As I should have done all along, now when I have a momentary freak out, I can just look to the Lord. He will provide me with strength to get through it, as well as the peace that passes understanding.

I appreciate your prayers on all these fronts!

Paranoia will destroya

First the good news: The swelling in my arm has gone down. Eric and I measured it last week and it is back to the size it was before our trip. I'm very glad for that.  Thank you for your prayers in that regard. I still massage and bandage most nights, but at least its not as urgent that I do so. It's all about maintenance now.

As I go on with life, I find myself experiencing moments of sheer panic. I had similar episodes during all of my pregnancies. The dreaded "what if." Every little pang, twitch, sensation in my body would throw me into a world of panic about the baby inside of me.  For instance, "is that the placenta separating?" (Having had a miscarriage at 14 weeks before didn't help assuage those fears any!)  But things worked out just fine and I have 3 beautiful kids on the earth.

Now these pangs, twitches and sensations make my mind go straight to thoughts of recurrence.  Unlike a pregnancy, it won't go away in 9 months.  As regular readers know, I exercise a lot. It's not uncommon for me to have strange spots of soreness here and there. But I know that I also probably manufacture phantom pains as well. For instance, right now I've been paranoid about my belly. Am I feeling pain in an organ? God forbid...my liver?

I'm sure this is a common thing among cancer survivors. At these times, I try to remind myself that I really am not in control of much anyway. My life is in God's hands, and it will end at some point. At least life in this body, that is.  This life is terminal.  I just don't want to have it end with me wasting away with cancer. I don't want my kids to remember me like that. Surely God has something better planned for me?  Certainly He put me here to do something with this disease-to speak out, to help others, to teach? To do something more than die and leave 3 young kids?  But it has happened to others, why not me?

I am thankful to have assurance of where I am headed once this body is done. That has helped me from the day of diagnosis not be so afraid. When it is over, I will be face to face with Jesus, my Savior. It will be glorious. But still.  The process can be terribly terrible, you know?

I'd appreciate your prayers that my mind be at peace and that I not have these bouts of paranoia. Like my college roommate would sing, "paranoia will destroya!"

God bless!