My Cloak of Protection

Rachel K. is a 32-year-old mother of two, a scientist and is battling a rare form of cancer that initially originated in her appendix. Since her diagnosis just after her 29th birthday, she has undergone multiple surgeries (including a complete hysterectomy) and multiple rounds of chemo as the cancer has spread throughout her abdomen.

Earlier this year, she learned the cancer has spread to her lungs. As she explores different treatment options, she's started a blog to help keep her large support team of friends and family updated about her treatment, particularly for those days she's too exhausted to talk to everyone. She also wants to create a lasting diary for her two young children.

Rachel also hopes to connect with other cancer patients on this same journey, particularly mothers of young children.

She took her blog's title from her new motto in life: Celebrate Everything. Click here to read more posts from Rachel.

With Rachel's permission, we will be regularly sharing her updates here on Women Playing For T.I.M.E.

Well, another Christmas has come and gone and, like every year before it, it was fantastic! 

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday.  We have so many fun family traditions that I love to dive into.  I also LOVE giving presents.  Once my husband and I became financially stable I started my annual tradition of buying too much for too many people.  My husband just groans (and occasionally gets angry) but I ignore the beast and continue my shopping extravaganza.

The last several years have certainly been very poignant Christmases.  The holiday season always brings you closer to family and it also always marks a step in my cancer journey.  I get particularly emotional at this time because I can’t help but thinking each year that this major family holiday may be my last. I tend to justify my crazy present spending sprees by using the “this could be my last Christmas” logic.  It has worked for the last four Christmases and I’m hoping it will work for many more!  (Of course, I would prefer that I not have that thought pop in to my head every year, but I can work with it as long as I’m here to think it!)

Last Christmas I was facing another surgery right before the holidays.  I was weak and overwhelmed by the idea of decorating the entire house.  I had friends offer help, but when it was time to do it things didn’t work out and I was looking at the prospect of decorating by myself.  My mother said to not worry about it, everyone knows your sick and it doesn’t have to be done.  I called my sister Brandi, crying and exhausted from trying to hang the lights on the big Christmas tree (my most hated part of Christmas).  I said people didn’t get it.  This was important to me, I HAD to get it done and done right.  Brandi, the therapist, understood right away.  Decorating my house to the hilt was my tradition.  It was my normal.  It was my children’s normal.  I was refusing to let cancer change our normal, even if the doing was killing me.  Brandi promised we would get it done and then she set to work.  She called my siblings who lived in my vicinity and impressed upon them the importance of this for me.  My husband and family pulled together and helped me get it done.  My house, my heart, my kids and my soul were now ready for Christmas.

This year, Christmas morning was spent at my house with my husband and children.  They loved all of their presents and were happy as can be.  Without cleaning up we traveled that night to my parents for two family get-togethers.  Typically Christmas Day night we have a huge extended family get together and name exchange at my Nam’s farm.  This year we did it on Friday and it was wonderful to see so many aunts, uncles, cousins and babies!  Then on Monday morning my siblings and significant others have our family name exchange.  

Gift giving is such a big part of this holiday and I know that that can get overwhelming for some people. I love making my list and checking it twice.  I love the smile on people’s faces when they are given a nice gift. I know that cancer has influenced some of our choices made over the last several years and tears are generally brought to my eyes at least once during the season.  Our first Christmas after my recurrence was by far the hardest and most emotional for everyone.  My husband made me smile by giving beautiful silver platters to my mom and sisters for helping us out for the two weeks I was in the hospital. 

My brother Adam has the gentlest soul and his gifts were what released the waterfall that year.  Adam is an artist and was taking pottery for the first time during the time of my diagnosis, surgery and start of chemo.  He made pieces of pottery for everyone that year.  He also included notes about what he was thinking/feeling while making each piece.  Adam used his pottery as a release for all his feelings of anger, fear, sadness and love during this extremely difficult time.  He had professors compliment his work and say they had never seen someone work with clay that way that Adam would.  I have a beautiful black glazed vase that is lovingly smoothed in rings on the top and marked with chunks of jagged clay and deep groves on the base that was created by the end of a hammer that Adam used to scrap out his anger and fear.  I can see the emotions and love used to craft every piece.

This Christmas was passing without too much emotion.  We gave presents and I loved them all but there weren’t any that brought on the tears. I should have known better.  After all the present unwrapping was done, I was sitting on the couch when everyone came in to the living room and my sister Brandi said, "We have one last present." 

I knew it was going to be difficult when her eyes glazed over and she pulled out a piece of paper to read from.  Here the words that she read:

“First, here is the back-story: Twenty years ago a fiber artist friend named Louise Todd Cope, told me about the process of her father’s illness and how she had made a 'cloak of protection' for him to lay over the end of his bed.  Included in the cloak that she made were pieces of cloth from her past, and threads woven in that reflected moments and memories of the time they had together as a family.  The story continues which you (meaning me!) can read later.”  

Brandi drew a deep breath and continued, “Dear Rachel, The above story was sent to us from cousin Jackie who gave us the idea of making you your very own Cloak of Protection.  Jackie had told us the story of the quilt that was made for their daughter from her late mother-in-law's shirts and we thought that this was something special we could do as well.”

“So, your Cloak of Protection includes a labor of love from Mom in which she creatively and painstakingly combined clothes from your loved ones.  There are shirts from your husband, your children, your mom and dad, your brothers (or rather a pair of boxers from one brother), your sisters, and your nieces and nephew.  There are clothes that were passed down from one child to another, there are pieces from favorite shirts and even a piece from the bridesmaid dresses from your wedding.”

“Use this Cloak of Protection to surround yourself with warmth and love as you battle through anything and everything that comes your way.  Each piece of cloth is but a small reminder of the power of family and support.  Draw strength and energy from this blanket and remember that no matter what you are not alone EVER!”

Love, Your Family

I wore my Cloak of Protection the next day when I began my next round of chemotherapy.

Want to learn more about Rachel's story? Check out her previous posts:

-- How Music Brought Me Back to Life

-- Good-bye Chemo, My Frenemy

-- I'm Not Great, I Just Have Cancer