"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                                   Who is My Neighbor?

     The days were getting longer and hotter, and the last of our visiting "winter residents" were heading home.  Here in Mesa, Arizona we have fabulous winters, but our summers are hot enough to send anyone packing.
     I was coming home from work when I first noticed him -- a tiny, older man parked on the side of our street.  He towed a second car, and the other car were filled to the brim.  The cars' license plates indicated he was from Canada.  The hood of the first car was raised, so I pulled up alongside him and asked if he needed help.  "No, thanks," he said.  "Everything will be fine."  So I went home.
     The next morning the cars were still there.  He was out of his car tending to a couple of dogs that were traveling with him.  I dashed back home and returned with a jug of cold water and a bag of grapes.  I wished him a safe trip, as I was sure he'd be gone by the time I got home from work.
     I was wrong.  By afternoon he was still stranded.  This time I stopped, got out of the car, chatted with him and met his dogs.  His name was Pete.  He didn't seem to have much money and most of his worldly goods were in his two old cars, both of which were now disabled.  I admitted to him that while I can fix nearly any appliance or do any household repair, I didn't fare too well when it came to cars.  Apparently he didn't ether.
     Pete did not go unnoticed in our neighborhood.  Several men had been by and poked around under the hood of his car, all with no success.  The third day came and went and Pete was still stranded.  My wife took him some cold water and more fruit.  Once again he spent the early summer night sleeping in his car with his dogs.
     On the four day, the manager of the "Whataburger" brought him a burger, fries, and a drink.  We tried to keep him supplied with cold water and fruit, and we invited him to the house for dinner and/or a shower.  He was timid and worried about his dogs.  He said, "No...thanks."
     I stopped briefly to visit with Pete on the fifth day and slipped him a twenty-dollar bill.  He was grateful and slightly embarrassed, but I was glad to help in any way.  I wished I knew more about car engines.  It was obvious that Pete barely had enough money to get home, and he certainly couldn't afford to hire a mechanic.
     I knew of only one person with the expertise to fix Pete's car - my good friend named Fred.  If Fred couldn't fix a car, no one could.  Pete couldn't afford to pay Fred anything and neither could I, but I knew that wouldn't stop Fred from fixing Pete's car.  He regularly fixed cars for friends just for the cost of parts.  He had a big heart - but he also had a large family and one of his daughters was getting married soon.  He had relatives visiting.  How could I possibly intrude on Fred's precious time?  No, this wasn't his problem; he didn't even know Pete.  I decided not to involve Fred.
     Neighbors continued to try to be helpful, but it wasn't enough.  Pete had been stranded on our street for a total of ten days, and his situation was looking rather hopeless.  It had on too long.  Finally I called Fred.

     With no talk of money and his daughter to be married early the next morning, Fred came out to fix Pete's car.  Neighbors came by and told Fred all the things they had already tried without success; they told himt he car was too far gone.  But not for Fred.  In less than an hour he had Pete's car humming.  With tears of gratitude and relief, Pete thanked Fred, who made a quick exit back to his busy household.
     Once again I invited Pete to our home for a meal and a shower.  Soon there was a quiet knock at our door.  I opened it and there stood Pete.  Although he refused dinner, he had some fresh clothes tucked under his arm and was looking forward to getting cleaned up.
     Pete soaked in our bathtub for nearly an hour.  Afterward he sat down and visited with us.  He noticed pictures of the Savior, the temple, and the First Presidency on our wall.  We told him we were LDS and explained a little bit about our church.  He said he had driven by an LDS temple in Canada.  Through the evening, Pete thanked us several times for our help.   We assured him that we could not have done it alone.
     As I drove down our street the next morning, I glanced over to the left, expecting to see Pete with his dogs and cars.  I felt a little twinge as I looked at the empty spot where he had taken up residence the past ten days.  But now he was gone.
     That night as I read my scriptures, I came across Luke 10:27:  "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all they heart...and thy neighbor as thyself."  Continuing, the scripture asks, "And who is my neighbor?"  Pete is my neighbor.  He's Fred's neighbor, too.  And for just a little while, we were privileged to serve him.

                                   -- Jim Abney, serves as a Primary teacher (By Small and Simple Things)

What's Next?

Tuesday afternoon I realized that my neuropathy was not getting any better, actually it seemed almost worse.  So I called my doctor and talked to them and let them know how I was feeling.  We decided that I wouldn't need to go see them on Wednesday.  So Craig and I decided to enjoy the day.  We started out by going to the temple, then to the library and then out to lunch.  Afterwards we went clearance shopping and found an amazing deal on snow boots.  Then we ended the day by going to the dollar movie!  What an amazing day we had together.  It's not very often that I have enough energy to do many fun things and so this was really special.  I am continually amazed at how unselfish Craig is and how willing he continues to be to miss out on fun things just to be by my side.  I'm so lucky to have him in my life, not only now but for eternity!

So what is next?  Since it's been 3 weeks, I have to start chemo again next Wednesday no matter what, but I will be changing from taking Taxol to taking Taxotere. The clinical trial that I have been on was a weekly thing and it was trying to prove the effectiveness of giving lower doses of Taxol every week.  Since Taxol is the drug that is causing my neuropathy to be so bad, I can no longer continue on the trial.  I now only have 2 treatments of chemo left instead of 6.  Since  I won't be going every week, I will have 3 weeks between treatments.  However, the other part of the trial was getting to take the experimental drug called Avastin which has been shown in other cancer's to prolong cancer from returning so soon.  The good thing is that I will still be able to take Avastin now and  then once my treatments are over, I will still be able to receive Avastin every 3 weeks for as long as my cancer does not return.  

Making the days count!

This last week has been amazing.  I feel like I am almost a normal person.  I still get tired easy, but not to have chemo in me for the past 2 weeks is such a SWEET gift to me.  Like I mentioned before, Brianhead was amazing.  So great to be away, with those that I love and to feel new strength was such a gift to me. Here are some pictures of the "fun" I was able to have with some of my grandkids.  My whole frame of mind has now changed.  Instead of counting the days like I was before, I'm trying to MAKE the days COUNT and what better way than to spend time with family!  There was a huge snow storm and it was freezing outside, but they talked me into sleding down the hill anyway!  What precious memories!

A glimpse into life after chemo!

I'm sorry the "Stories on the Sabbath" were late this week.  My daughter Charlene and her husband Paul and our 4 grandchildren from Vegas decided to go to Brianhead this weekend.  When we heard that we could see our grandkids and only travel 3 hours we were all over that!  Our son Daniel, and his wife and baby also came up.  It was great being with everyone. Since I have not had chemo treatments for the last 2 weeks, I feel like a teenager!  I am feeling so much better that I almost remember what life felt like before my cancer was discovered.  I know that I have 6 weeks of chemo left, and that I will get sick again, but this short break has really given me a shot in the arm and helped me realize that there is life after chemo!!! 

We had a great time at Brianhead and awoke to a beautiful snow storm this morning.  We had to dig our cars out of the snow to get to church, which was just down the road.  We all wore our snow clothes to chuch. What a fun adventure with our grandkids!

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                                Pass it On!

We cautiously watched from our camp, but they didn’t know we were watching.  The older man in the camp next to us was swearing and becoming angrier by the minute. All of a sudden he started throwing rocks at his car.  Then in his height of anger, he picked up a large boulder and threw it at the back windshield.  Shattered glass sprayed everywhere.  It was a horrible scene. 

It was September 1995, when our family finally found time to get away from the busy pressures of everyday life.  The summer had been packed with work and commitments for everyone.  It was an especially needed break for my husband, Mark.  He hadn't had a moment's rest up until that weekend.  This was the only day that he would be able to go to the Lake and he had been looking forward to the peace and relaxation it would bring. 

We had settled ourselves in to one of the picnic areas in Boxcar Cove at Lake Mead and had been enjoying ourselves swimming.  We were starting to eat when the people next to us began packing up and getting ready to leave.  They were in a low-rider car and as they tried to drive out of the sand, it became apparent that they would not be going anywhere.  They were stuck! 

There were two men, one older than the other, two women and  two small children in their group.  My heart went out to them for the plight they were in.  From their actions they must have been feeling just like I felt.  They had no idea how to get out!  The more they tried to free themselves from their sand trap, the further their car became buried.  It was apparent that they didn't know what to do.

I had watched in horror as the husband picked up the large rock.  Surely he wouldn't throw it I had thought.  But when it was released from his hands and glass sprayed everywhere, I knew he was at his wits end.  I felt totally unnerved as I watched the women and children helplessly crying.  They needed someone's help, but who would dare?

I heard a noise and turned just in time to see my husband walking from behind our car towards the man.  My first instinct was fear!  I wanted to run and stop him from getting any closer but it was too late.  I wanted to get as far away from that man as possible, and now my husband was rapidly approaching him.  Strangely enough, as Mark got closer, my fear left and I wasn't afraid for him anymore.

"Looks like you could use an extra hand,” Mark said calmly.  "I think I can help you get your car out."

The man was still very angry.  He didn't want to talk to anyone at all.  Mark stood there for a few minutes and then began digging the car out with his hands and a crow hammer.  It was sunken to the point that the frame was flat on the ground-tires completely buried.  As Mark dug around the tires, the younger man came over and helped.  They jacked the car up and pushed the car off the jacks onto harder ground.  Finally the older man calmed down enough and began helping.  Together, they all pushed the car until it was far enough away from the holes to be safe.  Then Mark explained to him how to back out so they would not get stuck again.

As they got into their car to leave they thanked Mark.  The husband had calmed down and the wife truly appreciated Mark coming to their aide.  I wanted them to know that we were Mormons, so they'd know that we were good people.  But Mark didn't think it was necessary to tell them.  I later realized why; he had already shown them! 

"Thanks so much for helping us out of this awkward situation," they said.  "We'd like to repay you some way."

"Hey, I was happy to help," Mark said honestly.  "Maybe when you see someone in need, you could pretend it was me and help them instead.  They in turn could repeat the gesture and the good deed would continually be passed on."

After they left I asked my husband, "How did you know what to do?" 

"I didn't have a clue!" he said just as bewildered as I was.  "They had that car so buried, I didn't think anything would work." 

"Then how in the world did you figure out how to get it out?"

"It wasn't me!"  Mark said as he stared at me and then shook his head.

"He was really upset wasn't he?"  I commented as I remembered the shattered windshield.

"That's why I had to do something," Mark said.  "I just couldn't stand by and watch without trying to help.  I knew I had to act calm, like I knew what I was doing so the guy would calm down too.  Then I started to work.  I immediately began praying, asking God to help me.  I knew he would show me what to do.  And he did!"

I was touched by the experience that had just happened.  But more importantly, I was moved by the lesson my husband had taught me.  This was the only day all summer he would have time to go to the Lake and I marveled watching him spend half of it trying to get a stranger's car out of the sand.

"You cannot lift another soul," President Lee once said, "until you are standing on higher ground than he is.  You must be sure, if you would rescue the man, that you yourself are setting the example of what you would have him be.  You cannot light a fire in another soul unless it is burning in your own soul."

 That day, a hole of gratitude was burned in my heart for the man of God that I had married.  I stood in awe as I watched my husband the rest of the day.  What an example of Christ like love he had been to all of us there.  I knew his nature was kind, for I'd seen him serve many a co-worker, neighbor, member of the church and family member.  I had even seen him serve strangers before.  But out at the lake sacrificing his own relaxation, reminded me of the widow’s mite.  He didn't have much spare time to give, but he gave even the little he had.  That day I recognized the higher ground on which he was standing as he reached down to serve someone in need.

                                                                     --Patty Edgel, mother of six

(Out of Small Things)

Tasty Tastebuds!

Last week I was upset that I had to miss my chemo treatment, but this week I am seeing things differently.  I saw a quote by Muhammed Ali that helped me. “Don’t count the days, make the days count.” I have been so caught up in wanting to get chemo overwith, that I have almost lost sight of what was most important.  If I don't get the neuropathy (numbness) under control, it could be irreversible and I could have it for the rest of my life.  So I need to not keep counting the days until chemo is over, but instead, I need to try and make every day count that I am alive and here on earth!

This has been an interesting week.  I have not known how I would feel not having chemo, since the last 12 weeks have been packed with all the fun chemo drugs.  I was surprised that I didn't feel better.  I am still really tired and on Friday I developed a UTI (Urinary Track Infection).   Thank goodness I recognized the symptoms early Friday and so I was able to call the doctor and give a urine sample when I went to get my EKO.  Sure enough, the sample came back with infection.  So they gave me an antibiotic they thought would fight it.  On Monday, I got a call and they said that the culture had grown over the weekend and they found out that I had E-Coli in my urine and that the meds they had given me were resistant to this strain of bacteria.  So they called in some new stuff.

During that same time, I continued to have pain around my rib cage.  This was the main reason the doctor ordered the chest x-ray, EKG and EKO (which all came back normal).  As I was talking to my nurse she asked if I might have some numbness in my chest/rib cage.  I had never thought of that before, just felt pressure.  But the more I thought and touched it, the more it could be described as numb.  She contacted the doctor and they started me on a heavy dose of anti-fungus meds.  She said that this sounded like SHINGLES.  I told her I didn't have any sores, but she said they could be internal.  So they are just being safe than sorry.  Shingles are a virus which is a member of the family of cold sores, which I have had all of my life.   Once you get the virus, it lies dormant in you until you are under stress.  Chemo therapy is a big stress and can lead to shingles.  How fun!  Why not add a few more things to make my life interesting...right?

Anyway, I have realized that blessings do come in disguise.  I was upset last week because I couldn't continue treatment.  But this week, I have had some significant changes which have been worth missing a treatment.  The first change has been my thumbs and fingers.  I would say they are 75% improved from last week.  I can pretty much text again....yeah...so now life can go on!  haha

The other thing that has been soooo amazing to me is that I can finally TASTE my food again!  My tastebuds are working again.  YIPPEE!!!  You have no idea how horrible it has been not being able to enjoy the food I'm eating because there is no taste to it.  Many times we would be eating dinner and I would say to Craig as I am eating the same food as he is, "It looks good, is it good?"  I did a little research and found out that smell plays a major role in taste.

Smell is probably the most important part of taste.  You can experiment on your own with this.  Eat something while smelling something totally different and see how that changes the way you perceive the taste.  The two go essentially hand in hand.  If you have a stuffy nose, your sense of smell is decreased which leads to decreased sense of taste.  (That totally makes since why I wasn't able to taste anything, because the Avastin caused me to have a bloody stuffed nose almost constantly.   The taste buds in your mouth tell you if something is sweet, salty, bitter, or sour. Think of it as the outlines in a coloring book.  Smell fills in the color.  If you can't smell, the taste buds are still there, but essentially aren't effective.  WOW!  So interesting to me.  This week I'm so thankful for tastebuds and a nose that works!!!

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                               "REFLECTION"                              

"Please Mommy," my five-year-old begged, "can't we go to McDonald's?"

"Sorry, Scott, Kanab doesn't have a McDonalds," I told him.

We were in the process of moving from the Chicago area to Las Vegas and had spent the better part of the week on the road.  My husband and I were getting pretty tired of fast food.  At that time we had six children ranging in age from one to eleven and when we were on trips we often frequented McDonalds because the kids loved their hamburgers and their breakfasts.

I'll never forget the comment the cashier made one time when we all piled out of the car and ordered breakfast. 

"Wow!  Twenty dollars!" she said, "I've never rung up a bill that big before!" 

We laugh now, but during those days, twenty dollars was an enormous amount of money to spend on breakfast, especially when there wasn't a lot to go around.

We had stopped in Kanab, Utah for a few days to visit with family, but because there were eight of us, we stayed in a motel.  We wanted to try and get an early start, but knew that we needed to eat breakfast before we left.

"Ross, what if we just go into Parry's Lodge to eat?" I asked.  "They're distantly related and it would be nice to give them our business."

Ross turned to me and said, "We don't have a choice, remember, Kanab doesn't have a McDonalds."  An audible groan was heard from the back of the car.

We arrived at Parry's and I said my 'hellos' to the few I still recognized from years before.  They had to put two tables together in order to fit us all in.  We were put back in the corner for which I was very relieved.  My biggest concern was that the kids not disturb other people around them.  My main focus was to get them fed quickly and keep them quiet.

Surprisingly enough we made it through breakfast without making a scene.  As we finished eating and began looking for the bill, three eager waitresses came running up to our table.  They seemed very excited about something.  

“We could hardly wait until you finished eating," Debbie, our waitress said.  "Did you notice the man and his wife sitting three tables away?"

I shook my head 'no'.  I had been too busy with the kids to notice anyone.

Before Debbie could finish, another waitress blurted out her secret.  "They paid your bill!"

"Yeah, they told us that they remembered when they used to travel with their young children," Debbie interrupted.  "They said they were grateful that they were in a position now that they could afford to help out.  They know how financially draining it can be to feed a large family."

We were shocked!  I quickly turned to see if I could catch a glimpse of them, but they were gone.  The waitresses all said that they didn't recognize them.  They must have been tourists. 

When we got in the car, we told our children what had just happened.  They hadn't seen the elusive couple either.  The kids couldn't understand why someone who was a total stranger would pay our bill and then leave before we could thank them.  We drove away with full stomachs and full hearts.

As the years have gone by and most of our children are grown and gone, I've often reflected on this Christ like act. Kind thoughts fill my heart and tears fill my eyes  as I remember the unselfishness of this couple and the financial relief they gave to us.

However, not until I began telling this story for the purpose of publication, did the full impact of the incident finally hit me.  In the very act of re-telling it, I have come to realize the desire and the responsibility I have in passing on the good deed.

As I sit here contemplating those events, my mind whirls into a reflection process.  I am not able to finish telling the story because I realize that there is no ending. We are the ones who will continue the story by our actions.   It is a mushrooming effect.  As we, and in turn each of our children, find opportunities to secretly do as was done for us, the Christ like love grows and enriches more lives.  Not until I took time for this reflection did I see the unfinished picture.  It is a lesson learned.  One I wish to pass on in hopes that your reflections, like mine, will move you to action.

--Keralee Oblad, mother of seven

Chemo Treatment Postponed!

So where do I begin?  It's been a week filled with news that I would rather not have to deal with.  First of all, I have been having more and more neuropathy in my feet and my hands.  It started out subtle, like a tingling feeling and now it's progressed to constantly feeling like I am literally walking on pins and needles. Then my thumbs and the first two fingers on each hand started to be very painful.  I didn't think it was neuropathy because I was waiting for tingling or numbness.  I am not feeling that, but what I am feeling is like each finger has been slammed in the door and it hurts so bad.  I can't even open a ziploc bag.  I can hardly text, because I have to push hard,  but thankfully I am able to type with just a little discomfort.

Yesterday was my normal chemo day. I have gone 12 straight weeks with no breaks and I was so excited because that meant I only had 6 times left.  At the beginning of each 3 week cycle, I have to see my doctor and get an extensive blood work up done.  Because I am on this clinical trial, they are watching me very closely.  One of the chemo drugs I am having every week is called Taxol and it is known for causing neuropathy.  There are different stages of neuropathy and I have been in a stage 1 up until this point.  Yesterday when the doctor saw and heard how bad my feet and hands were, he upgraded my condition to level 2.  Normally I would have been okay with that because things have been getting bad.  But the problem with being at level 2 is that I could NOT receive treatment!!!  Not until the symptoms from the neuropathy get better.  The reason they are so careful with this is that if we ignore it, it can become irreversible (permanent) even after chemo is over.  Ugh!  That is the last thing I would want to happen.  So with much disappointment, I agreed not to have chemo yesterday.  I know it is not the end of the world, but it just means that I am prolonging being done.  It could be as long as 3 weeks before my next treatment.  Try telling a pregnant woman at the end of her pregnancy that she needs to tack on another 3 weeks!  That's how I feel right now.  But then when I talk to other people who are having far worse trials in their lives, and I realize that I can make it and that I need to continue to develop more of that horrible word.....PATIENCE!!!!

The last week I have been so weak and lethargic and my taste buds are completely gone and everthing tastes terrible!  I have also been having a lot of pain around my rib cage. I saw my surgeon on Monday and he said that he thought it was the chemotheraphy causing it. Then when I saw my chemo doctor on Wednesday he said he thought it was from surgery! Good old doctors, always wanting to pass the blame. Anyway, my chemo doctor decided to be proactive and run some tests on me just to be safe. One of the drugs I am taking (Avastin) has been known to cause heart damage. So yesterday I had a chest x-ray, an EKG and tomorrow I will have an EKO which is an ultrasound on the heart, to make sure that the muscle in my heart is not being damaged. I feel like my life consists of bed, doctors, couch, bed, church, bed, and doctors again.

For the good news.... My white blood count was up and so I would have been able to have treatment. I'm taking some glyco-nutrients from Manatech that I truly believe has been the miracle in keeping my blood count treatable. I would recommend it to anyone who is going through chemotheraphy. There are so many things that I feel helpless with, but this is just something little that I am doing on my own that makes me feel empowered!

More good news.... They did another CA-125 blood test yesterday and it is down to 33.5!!!!!  The normal range is 0-35 - so that means that I am finally in the normal range!!!! Yippee!!!  That means that the chemo is working in killing the cancer I have right now!  That's great news considering that before my surgery the CA-125 was 687.  Then it dropped to 350 after surgery.  Then to 165 after 3 weeks of chemo, then 81 after another 3 weeks, then to 51 after another 3 weeks and now to 33.5!  So if I'm looking for a silver lining in my cloud this would be it!

Tested Positive for the BRCA 1 Gene

A couple posts ago I mentioned that I was going to take a blood test known as BRCA 1 gene test.   Well I took it and the results came back as "Positive".   What does that mean?  Well, it means that I have a malfunctioning "mutation" gene that is likely to cause me to continue having more cancer.  Here is some research I did about this type of genetic testing for those who might be interested.  Disregard if you are not.  Overall all, I am dealing with this pretty good.  It is what it is.  They are treating me with the best things possible and now they will follow me even closer.  The greatest impact is going to be on my children and siblings.  My first line relatives have a 50/50 chance of having this gene.  I have come to realize that it is not a death sentence, but a way to be proactive and monitor your health at an earlier than usual stage.  Thank goodness we are alive in this day and age where modern medicine can help us try and prolong our lives.  I'm grateful to be alive, even going through all of this.  Believe me I have my ups and downs, but I'm so grateful that I have been able to come to earth to gain a body.  How blessed I have been to be born into an amazing family with parents and siblings that loved and taught me so many important things.  Then to be able to fall in love and have an eternal companion and wonderful children and sweet grandchildren that I will be with for Eternityy is frosting on the cake!

What is BRCA1?
BRCA1 is human gene that belong to a class of genes known as tumor suppressors. In normal cells, BRCA1 helps ensure the stability of the cell’s genetic material (DNA) and helps prevent uncontrolled cell growth. Mutation (Malfunction) of this gene has been linked to the development of hereditary breast and ovarian cancer. The names BRCA1 stand for BReast CAncer susceptibility gene 1

How does BRCA1 gene mutation affect a person's risk of cancer?
Not all gene changes, or mutations, are deleterious (harmful-but mine is).  Some mutations may be beneficial, whereas others may have no obvious effect (neutral). Harmful mutations can increase a person’s risk of developing a disease, such as cancer.

A woman’s lifetime risk of developing breast and/or ovarian cancer is greatly increased if she inherits a harmful mutation in BRCA1. Such a woman has an increased risk of developing breast and/or ovarian cancer at an early age (before menopause) and often has multiple, close family members who have been diagnosed with these diseases. Harmful BRCA1 mutations may also increase a woman’s risk of developing cervical, uterine, pancreatic, and colon cancer (1, 2). Men with harmful BRCA1 mutations also have an increased risk of breast cancer and, possibly, of pancreatic cancer, testicular cancer, and early-onset prostate cancer. 

The likelihood that a breast and/or ovarian cancer is associated with a harmful mutation in BRCA1 is highest in families with a history of multiple cases of breast cancer, cases of both breast and ovarian cancer, one or more family members with two primary cancers (original tumors that develop at different sites in the body), However, not every woman in such families carries a harmful BRCA1 mutation, and not every cancer in such families is linked to a harmful mutation in one of these genes. Furthermore, not every woman who has a harmful BRCA1 mutation will develop breast and/or ovarian cancer.

What does a positive BRCA1 or BRCA2 test result mean?
A positive test result generally indicates that a person has inherited a known harmful mutation in BRCA1 and, therefore, has an increased risk of developing certain cancers, as described above. However, a positive test result provides information only about a person’s risk of developing cancer. It cannot tell whether an individual will actually develop cancer or when. Not all women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 mutation will develop breast or ovarian cancer. 

A positive genetic test result may have important health and social implications for family members, including future generations. Unlike most other medical tests, genetic tests can reveal information not only about the person being tested but also about that person’s relatives. Both men and women who inherit harmful BRCA1 mutations, whether they develop cancer themselves or not, may pass the mutations on to their sons and daughters. However, not all children of people who have a harmful mutation will inherit the mutation. 

What are the options for a person who has a positive test result?
Several options are available for managing cancer risk in individuals who have a harmful BRCA1 mutation. However, high-quality data on the effectiveness of these options are limited.

• Surveillance—Surveillance means cancer screening, or a way of detecting the disease early. Screening does not, however, change the risk of developing cancer. The goal is to find cancer early, when it may be most treatable.
  
  Surveillance methods for breast cancer may include mammography and clinical breast exams. Studies are currently under way to test the effectiveness of other breast cancer screening methods, such as magnetic resonance imaging (MRI), in women with BRCA1 mutations. With careful surveillance, many breast cancers will be diagnosed early enough to be successfully treated.
  
  For ovarian cancer, surveillance methods may include transvaginal ultrasound, blood tests for CA–125 antigen, and clinical exams. Surveillance can sometimes find ovarian cancer at an early stage, but it is uncertain whether these methods can help reduce a woman's chance of dying from this disease.

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                            Empty or Full?

The professor stood at the front of the classroom.  In his right hand was a glass of water.  Placing the glass on the desk, he bent over as he peered above his bifocals at the class.  As if in deep thought, he gently stood back up and began rubbing his chin and then posed a stirring question.

“Is the glass half empty or half full?” he asked almost with a sneer.

Hands immediately shot up.  The professor paused for a few seconds and then chose several eager students.

“It’s half full,” an attentive girl said who was always on time and usually sat on the front row.

Pointing to another student, the professor listened.

“It’s half empty,” a rather negative looking young man replied as his hand slammed down on the desk top.

Knowing that these would be the given responses, the professor countered.  “Are there not any other observations?”

A cocky looking student, stood up and said, “It all depends on whose pouring!”  The class began to chuckle.  Pleased with himself and the response he received, he turned and bowed to the class and then arrogantly sat down.

At the back of the class, a timid arm of an older woman kept trying to force its way up.  The professor was about to go on with his lecture, but his eye finally caught the attempted gesture.  “And what might you have to add to this spirited discussion?” he asked.

              Cautiously she stood and then proceeded to speak. “I think every comment has been partially correct,” she said with aged maturity.  “But they are missing the intended lesson.  The issue is not the water. It’s the perspective.”  Pointing to the man she said, “He saw the glass half empty, while she saw it half full.  The level of the water never changed.  It’s all in the way you look at things.”  As she bent to sit down she quietly uttered, “So it is in life!”

The professor smiled.  There was more than half the class time left, but the lecture was over.  This aged woman had taught the class more in one comment than he could have taught in a whole life time.  “Class dismissed.”             

                                                 *****

              It had been a long week and I always looked forward to the weekends.  But lately, weekends had not brought the desired break with my husband, Cliff, who was going to Optometry school.  During the school year, his hours seemed never ending.  I was so excited when summer finally came, thinking that he would be able to spend more time with our daughter, Alex and me.  However, because of our financial demands, he immediately began working full‑time, every day except Sunday.  Now I saw him even less! 

When most families were vacationing together, I found myself at home alone with our two- year-old daughter, and on the average, with no car.  Not to mention that I was hundreds of miles from any family and living in the hot, humid climate that Texas provided during its summers. 

             Cliff was serving as a counselor in the Stake Young Mens' presidency which required him to attend other wards many Sundays.  This often left me alone to struggle with our daughter during sacrament meeting, and then go to Nursery where I served as Nursery Leader. 

My husband and I both had been raised in the church and had watched our parents give service freely as they served in their respective callings.  However, we wondered if the time we spent serving was worth the time we spent apart. As students, we found ourselves more often as the recipient of service rather than the bearer.  Lately though, we had been given many opportunities to serve.

After church several weeks ago, we were taking home one of the families that Cliff home teaches because they do not have a car.  We usually take them to and from church each Sunday, with exception of the weeks that Cliff must attend another ward.  In which case, he arranges a ride for them.  We were accustomed to this, and felt we had enough gas to make the drive. However, on this particular Sunday as we got ready to leave the church, we found an elderly sister who also needed a ride home. 

We, as well as another sister, offered to take her home.  The other sister was without her spouse and had four children to handle.  Knowing that the elderly sister would need assistance getting in and out of the car and then into her home, we told her we would be more than happy to take her.  Because our car was too small to fit everyone, someone stayed with the elderly sister while we took home the other family.  When we arrived back at the church, I realized we were on empty.  I knew where the sister lived and realized that we could get there, but I was well aware that we would not be able to make it home.  After Cliff helped her into the car, and sat next to her in the back, I quietly mentioned that we were on empty, somehow thinking that his knowing would make it better.

"See if my wallet is in the glove compartment," he said under his breath, so as not to alarm our passenger.  I checked and it was not there.

"Is there any change in the ash tray?"

"No," I said as I looked for some silver between the few copper pennies that lay in the tray.

We started the drive in faith.  We knew that we were serving the Lord by helping this sister.  We had always done what we felt was required of us and knew that the Lord had looked out for us in the past.  Cliff whispered from behind me, "Pray Charity!"  So I did.

In my heart I asked the Lord to please bless us as we were trying to serve His other children.  I  continued my prayer most of the way to her home.  After ending the internal prayer, I looked at the gas gage.  I watched it as it miraculously rose to 1/8 of a tank!  I continued to keep my eye on it for fear that my eyes had tricked me and that any minute it would be on empty again.  It stayed there until we had dropped her off and was about two blocks from our house.  At that point, I watched it plunge back to below empty.  We felt that because we had been doing service, the Lord had blessed us so that we would not have to break the Sabbath.

The next morning, Cliff was able to make it across the street to the gas station and fill up the car for work.  Because of our obedience, we were blessed to witness a small miracle in our lives.  If I had not seen it myself, I may not have believed it.  From this day forth, I will never forget the picture in my head of that gas gage rising right before my eyes!

            Since that day, we have found that every time we serve the Lord we are blessed.  It might not be in such a miraculous way as this, but we are blessed nevertheless.  I have also realized that I need to have a better attitude about the service we render.  For at the time I witnessed the Lord’s hand in our service, I had a negative attitude about serving that day and was viewing the glass in my life as half empty instead of half full.  I resented having to spend the only day that I had with my husband, in doing so much for other people.  I am usually very willing to do things for others, but with all the pressures we were both facing, that day it seemed a burden. 

Cliff had been having a hard time as it was with all that was being required of him.  I was a little frustrated in my calling as Nursery leader because there had been no one else who had been called to help me.  We usually tried to do what we could cheerfully, but because it was a stressful time for both of us, I guess my attitude was showing that day.

As time goes by and I am faced with like challenges, I often remember that vivid picture of the empty gas tank and recall how the Lord filled it to the needed level that Sabbath day.  As I strive to conquer each trial that comes along, I realize that with the Lord at my side, my life can always be full.

                     ‑Charity Stratton served as the Nursery Leader (Out of Small Things)

                                                  

The Lord blessed me and I was well enough to speak in Stake Conference!

The Lord blessed me so much tonight.  I have been sick all week, including today.  But I knew if I exercised my faith that the Lord would bless me enough to give my talk tonight at the adult session of Stake Conference and he did.  Since my mom and sister’s live out of state, they have asked that I post part of my talk on the blog so they can read it.  So please bear with me.

Introduction – I introduced Craig and I and shared our health issues that we were facing right now.

How are we coping with this?   Through faith and hope and charity.

• 2 Nephi 31:20

 Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life.

Question: When it comes to Priesthood blessings, who has the greater responsibility for the healing to take place; the one giving the blessing or the one receiving the blessing?

Lana said:  the one receiving

Lucy said:  the one giving.  She went on to explain that maybe if the person receiving the blessing is lacking faith, the faith of the one giving the blessing can act as a teaching experience and help increase the recipients’ faith.

Story 1:  (Hard to breathe during the night)

Lucy’s comment reminded me of a recent experience.  About 2 months ago I was having a really hard time breathing in the middle of the night.  I became very frightened because two days earlier I had 2 liters of fluid drained from around my right lung.   Every time I would breath in it would hurt and wake me up.  I was very worried something was wrong and would have gone to the emergency room, but the next morning I would be seeing my doctor. 

Craig gave me a blessing and in the blessing he told me that what I was experiencing was normal and that I would be able to fall asleep and rest until morning and when I went to the doctor I would find all well.  I was in shock!  I didn’t believe a word he said.  I thought I was dying and here he blessed me to go back to sleep. 

When we got back in bed I said, “Honey, if I die tonight I want you to know that I am happy that I married you.”  Then Craig said, “If you die tonight, I’m going to be really mad.  Now straighten up and have some faith!”  Then he reached over and squeezed my hand and said, “I mean that in a nice way.”

Well it happened just like he said in the blessing.  I fell asleep, slept the rest of the night and when I went to the doctor he listened to my lungs and everything was okay.

So in this situation, the recipient (me) was lacking faith and because of the faith of the one giving (my husband) I was healed and taught at the same time.

Quote:  (By Richard G. Scott)

“Your faith, purity, and obedience and that of the priesthood holder have great effect on the pronouncement and realization of the blessing.”

Story 2: (Vertigo)

“When I was RS President in Las Vegas, we had a lot of elderly women that didn’t get to church.  So we decided to have a “Home RS” and see if we could some of the sisters to attend.  Our presidency decided that I would go in the morning and teach at the Home RS and then teach the same lesson to our ward that afternoon.  The Sunday arrived for this pilot program and when I woke up that morning I was so sick.  Whenever I would raise my head, the whole room would spin.  This was my first experience with vertigo and I was so dizzy I could hardly stand it.  After several failed attempts at getting up, I asked my husband for a blessing.

He placed his hands on my head and blessed me that I would be healed and would be able to go and teach the two lessons I needed to that day.  After he said Amen, I laid there feeling so weak and sick.  How in the world was I going to be able to teach, when I couldn’t even lift my head off the pillow without wanting to throw up? 

My thoughts were interrupted when my husband reached over and took my right hand and said, “okay, now honey get up.”  Inside I thought, “Wait….wait….a minute, are you kidding me?  I just got this blessing…it’s not supposed to work that fast is it?”  Then almost instantly I had a vision come to my mind.  It was from the church movie “Legacy”.  It was when Eliza was on the plains and had become so sick.  She was in bed with a fever and was so despondent.  Then Joseph Smith came in and knelt beside her and gave her a blessing.  After he finished, he reached and took her hand and commanded her to arise.  She was so weak, yet she sat up and she was healed!

With that vision in my mind, I took my husband’s hand and sat up.  The room was spinning so fast…where was my faith to be healed?  My husband seemed to have faith that I would be healed, but what about me?  Then at that precise moment a message was seared in my heart that said, “Faith is an ACTION word.  Get up and do your part and the Lord will make up the difference.”

With all the strength I could muster I stood up and put my arms around my husband’s neck as the room continued to spin.  I put my feet on his shoes and he slowly walked me into the bathroom.  I don’t know how long I was in there, but I realized I had to equalize my head with the room.  So I slid to the floor and sat up with my head against the wall.  The longer I sat there, the slower the spinning got.  Finally there was no more spinning.  Yeah!  I crawled to my closet and slowly stood up and started getting dressed. 

All during this time it was as if my bed was screaming for me to come back.  I would have LOVED to go back to bed and end this misery.  But what about the healing I had been promised?  What about the sisters that I was going to teach?  I didn’t realize that I was being taught a principle of faith that would change my life forever.  In this situation, I needed to exercise an “action form of faith” WHILE I was being healed, not waiting until AFTER I felt completely well.  The more I “PRESSED FORWARD” the more I was healed.

That Sunday I was able to teach both RS lessons and testify boldly to the sisters of the miracle of healing that had just occurred in my life.  Since that time, I have realized over and over the profound lesson I learned that day.  Every time I  have ever had to teach, or speak or do something for the Lord, he has HEALED me as I have pressed forward with my faith, knowing he would heal me.”

Quote:  (By Richard G. Scott)

 “Healing can occur in the act, yet more often it occurs over a period of time determined by the faith and obedience of the individual and the will of the Lord.

I feel that the pace is generally set by the individual, not by the Lord. He expects you to use other resources available, including competent professional help when indicated; then He provides the balance needed according to His will.” -Richard G. Scott, “To Be Healed,” Ensign, May 1994, 7

WOW!!!! – What kind of PACE have we been setting in our healings? I fear that many of us have received Priesthood blessings to be healed, and have waited until we were the “perfect picture of health” before attempting to arise and go forth to serve.  

MESSAGE FOR LINDON STAKE:  This is the message that the Lord has asked me to share with the Lindon Stake tonight!  After Pres. Corbridge asked me to speak, I went to the temple to receive inspiration.  I felt okay going into the  temple, but as the session continued I got weaker and weaker.  As I stood to go to the veil, I knew the Lord would bless me to make it through, but I knew I had to push myself to make it happen.  It was then that the spirit whispered to me that this was the message to share in my talk.

Bible Dictionary:  Faith is a principal of Action and of power.  And by it one can command the elements and/or heal the sick or influence any number of circumstances when occasion warrants.

I believe that pressing forward is the “Action” part of faith.  It means pushing yourself to do that which you know is right, but might not feel well enough to do.

God lives and loves us.  The Atonement is real.  I know that Christ suffered for not only my sins, but the pains and sorrow I am experiencing at this time.  I know I can be healed time and time again as I press forward, exercising my faith.

Pressing Forward

When I saw this quote, it made me stop and realize that the Lord knows that I am strong enough to handle the life I have been given, but it's me that is still wondering.  That's why I need to press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope... (2nd Nephi 31:20).  Tomorrow I've been asked to speak in the adult session of Stake Conference and share how I have been able to handle the trials that have been placed before me.  Wow what a topic!  The above scripture is the theme for the conference and it has given me a lot of food for thought these past couple of weeks.

I believe that pressing forward is the action part of faith.  It means pushing yourself to do that which you know is right, but that you might not totally feel like doing, but know that it is the best thing for you.  Then comes hope.  Without hope, there is no reason to keep going.  I have hope that I can make it through this chemo.  I have hope to be well again.  I have hope to be with my family in the eternities together.