Gindi Vincent

The Dish on Career, Fashion, Faith, and Family

Day 1

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The threshold I will cross every morning.

I’m going to try to write every day of radiation.

Today was Day 1.

I will go in for radiation treatments 22 more days – Monday – Friday, 7:30 am. March 1 – March 31. February: get rid of present cancer. March: get rid of potential cancer.

It feels like a completeness schedule. One full month, exactly. The month our world turns the calendar on spring. Spring Break, even. (Of course, I can go nowhere because of daily radiation – if you have any local suggestions for a day out with my kids, I’m all ears.) Finishing exactly before Maundy Thursday and Easter weekend.

Last year, I wrote every day (almost) of February. So I figured I could do it again.

Writing is good discipline for me. It makes me sit still with my thoughts. It reminds me of what this season is.

Today, Monday, is gray and wet and chilly in Houston. I walked into radiation in a t-shirt and open-toed shoes, and walked out to nearly a 15 degree temperature drop. In 45 minutes!

I made green chicken enchiladas yesterday. It’s one of my specialties. I made extra pans for two special families. It’s been such a season of us being on the receiving end, I really needed to do something for someone else.

This is me today. On Day 1. I only managed to slap on a little powder and blush before driving to MD Anderson West and then returning home to work from our kitchen corner today. This is my chest. They cover me in sharpie marks to align the radiation machine. I lay on this hard board while a mammoth white machine moves over me. This is my bathroom counter; all the moisturizers friends have recommended to keep my skin in better shape. Everyone says moisturize, all the time. That will be work for me. I never remember to moisturize.

I’m going back into work now. It was good to be there last week.

I’m not quite yet able to make the commute every day, but I’m going in two to three days a week and am so happy to have the structure of the office.

I received my first dose of the COVID vaccine on Friday and am so thankful. MDA gave out the Pfizer vaccine on Friday, which is silently what I was rooting for, and I only had a sore arm for a day. My second dose is March 20th and then hopefully I’ll get to see my dad and stepmom. It’s been over a year and a half now – way too long. They are fully vaccinated so I just need to wrap up mine.

The boys and Bray went to the farm to work there over the weekend so little bit had her best pal over for a sleep over. It was such fun. I was telling my girlfriends that there will be a season, probably soon, when they don’t want me around, but right now we all had a blast. We played games and ordered in and watched movies and I cracked up as they performed plays in the den and mapped out their spirit outfits for school this week. It’s such a privilege to watch them grow and laugh with them.

I’m tired but thankful. Not tired from radiation (yet), but tired because I haven’t slept well the past few nights. But I’m ready to tackle this month.

Cancer Update

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Prayer Map!

Not the most original blog post title, I will grant you. But it’s clear. I have a cancer update for you!

First, let me say thank you. Those words feel woefully inadequate. We are blown away by our incredible community who lavished provision on us during the past couple of months. Thank you for the cards, calls, texts, emails, flowers, sweet treats, meals, and even the shampoo (more on that later!).

I will never be able to send enough thank you notes to express how grateful we all are. The baby was playing with two friends last week and he came home and ask, “Mom, are you cancer free?” “YES!,” I replied (a little sad our communication wasn’t clearer)! “That’s what I thought,” he said smiling, “I told T and P when they asked and they cheered!”

The fact that we have elementary school boys cheering about God’s miracle provision just makes me smile and cry at the same time.

Before I share a little more, let me just say my journey won’t look like anyone else’s. I know that everyone’s cancer journey is totally different and I have so many friends that have very different stories. Double mastectomies, prolonged chemotherapy treatments, recurrences within the year, clinical trials, etc. I hope I know better how to care and love those battling this disease now, but my story looks different.

On February 1st, I laid out five prayer requests. Audacious but we have so many people praying. SO MANY – thank you! In fact, I made a map for the kids to show them how many states had someone praying for my cancer fight. (See map picture above! If you have been praying in a location that isn’t marked, would you drop me a comment? The kids and I have loved watching God’s coverage from coast to coast (and beyond)!)

I’m just going to lay out every single request and how God has answered!

Number 1 – clean COVID test.  As you know, my entire family got COVID in January! Y’all, it is INSANE I did not get it. I stayed in the house with them the whole time. I tested on February 2nd and THAT NIGHT we got the negative test result back. It’s honestly a miracle. MDA would have canceled the surgery if it was positive. And what we didn’t know then, is it likely would have bene rescheduled for a couple of weeks out WHEN THE WINTERPOCALYPSE hit Houston! Thank you for praying for this.

Number 2 – the surgery on Thursday.  The surgery went beautifully. First of all, Bray dropped me off at 7 am so I didn’t have to wait around all day with no food and water. The surgery started a little after 9 am and they were calling him to pick me up at 1:30.

The surgery was two parts. First, the oncological surgeon removed the tumor and my sentinel lymph nodes. The initial lab reports showed clean margins and no cancer in the lymph nodes but they had to be sent off to evaluate. Then, the plastic surgeon cut tissue out of my left breast and placed it in my right breast to even them out. In addition to cutting the center of the breasts, they also cut the underneath to “lift” them. Then they inserted a drain on my right side to drain fluids from my right breast to prevent infection.

Number 3 – Smooth recovery.  It was as smooth as a moderately painful surgery can be. Mine was FAR LESS painful than my friends who have gone through mastectomies and multiple drains.

I was in discomfort the first week. The drain especially made it hard to get around or sleep. I have to wear a bra for six weeks and the pressure against the incisions hurt. Plus I couldn’t shower or wash my hair that first week without feeling like I would pass out.

However, the recovery went as it was supposed to with no complications. No infections. No extended drains because of fluid build up. And no clotting. All mercies over mercies.

Number 4 – The test results.  Here is where I need you to SIT DOWN! The preliminary results were good. Then last week my oncological surgeon told me that they cleanly extracted the tumor without any remaining cancer (1.3 cm, stage 1 as they estimated). Further, the sentinel lymph nodes were completely clear; one of the two results we needed in order to avoid a course of chemotherapy.

But then, something I didn’t even know to pray for. My oncologist told me via video visit on Monday that 50% of the tumor was non-invasive. If you’ve been following my cancer posts, initially I was diagnosed with DCIS – an invasive ductal carcinoma. Half of it WASN’T EVEN INVASIVE. They never treat noninvasive cancer with chemo.

We’re not done. They have sent off the tumor for genomic testing. The oncologist said though that she believes the need for chemo is low. So much so that I’ve gone ahead and had my visit with radiation. The doctor will do a CT scan and mark me up on Wednesday in order to set out my treatment plan and I should begin a course of radiation the week of March 1st (three weeks of radiation of the right breast with a fourth week of a “booster” where the tumor was). Radiation side effects are fatigue and possible skin burn. I would certainly love continued prayers for the genomic test results and the radiation treatments.

Number 5 – A late add.  My best friend’s arrival.

Ha – you prayed too hard!! If you followed us on the socials, you saw she arrived and then SHE STAYED. More on that sweet visit later this week, but Kristin and her daughter got in on February 11th. We had a very cold but fun visit down to Galveston for the weekend.

Then the polar vortex trapped all of Texas where they were with no power or water. Instead of flying out on Monday, she flew out on THURSDAY!

I loved having her but wished the conditions were more hospitable. And her family may never let her leave again! We’ve decided after our last couple of trips with weather calamity, we’re only traveling in April or October and then only to Florida!

There were so many other miracles that you can’t even see in this report. For example, on the 11th MDA canceled my 12th appointment to remove my drain. I was a wreck. Completely crying and melting down and leaving very sad sack messages with the MDA nurses. They fixed it and got me in even earlier in the day. Had I not gotten that drain out, I would have been stuck with it another entire week because of the weather closures.

Big and small, God COVERED US! You covered us! We are so overwhelmingly thankful.

Days of Decrease

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Image result for lent

Today is the first Sunday of Lent. In 40 days, it will be Good Friday. So today I’m beginning a series of days of “decrease.”

I’ve written for years about Lent. Mainly because I’m still Learning Lent, as I wrote in 2013. My childhood faith tradition did not recognize a practice of Lenten sacrifice. But as I shared eight years ago, “Lent isn’t about forfeiting as much as it’s about formation. We renounce to be reborn. We break away to become.”

In 2015, I shared another new learning on Lent. Lent is a wise tradition that insists we deal with our heart’s biggest spiritual issue. We are prone to wander, to forget, to blame, and to hide. We want to make our own way.

Even last year, I grappled with the season (years I give up, years I give back…). I tried to give up yelling. (Little bit reminds me today it wasn’t that successful. And THAT was pre-COVID.)

I missed this kick off to Lent this past week. Mainly because on Ash Wednesday over half of Houston WAS sacrificing without power, water, or cell service. We GAVE UP a ton of stuff.

But not for 40 days.

As I sat in church this morning (thankful to be back after surgery) and in the pastor’s class afterwards, Lenten sacrifices swirled in my head. No one specifically coming to the fore. Then someone mentioned Lent as a period of decrease.

John the Baptist’s words from John Chapter 3 immediately jumped into my head, “He must increase, but I must decrease.”

There is a lot in my life there is TOO MUCH of. Things which weaken my faith or take my attention away from Jesus because there is just TOO MUCH. Too much social media, too much wine, too much impatience, too much need for control, too much sloth, too much worry, too much yelling, too much eating, too much apathy, on and on.

What if, instead of selecting ONE thing to give up, every day I pray for one area to decrease?

What if I put sticky notes on my doors and my mirrors reminding me that I need to ask where God is calling me to limit, eliminate, lay down? Last year, for example, I did better with not losing my patience and hollering at the kids, but I certainly didn’t succeed every day.

But one day. Well that feels very manageable. Plus, I have SO many areas to choose from where God needs my sacrifice (sigh, all these years of faith and still so far to go). This season can teach me in more area than one.

How do I go about these days of decrease?

One, I need to wake up earlier. Between COVID and the cancer diagnosis, I have allowed myself to sleep in far later than I have in my adult life. It was just a couple of years ago when I was working out at 5:15 in the morning with my neighbor. Now there are days I’m not out of bed until close to 7. That means rushed mornings with absolutely zero time for listening to God.

Two, once I’m up, the first thing every morning will be time in prayer. Some days it may be shorter than others. But I can read a devotional or a scripture and pray for what God would have me decrease that day.

Maybe I go to Him with my problems instead of my friends. Maybe I don’t open a single social media app. I might need to clean. To exercise. To fast. Who knows? I really don’t. I have no preconceived ideas of what this season will call for.

But I have long been struck by the value of a 40 day period. I’ve written about it and studied it. Coming off of a year of COVID and breast cancer, I can’t think of a better time for a 40 day rebirth.

Our church put this meditation on the screen this morning: During the season of Lent, the church travels with Jesus on the road to the cross. As we prepare to remember our Savior’s betrayal, arrest, suffering, and death, we reflect on what things in our lives we may need to put to death so we can live in the newness of Jesus resurrection and ascension. May the light of Christ shine more deeply into our hearts as we walk this road with him, revealing the darkness within us, and making us new.

Today is Day 1 on the road to Good Friday’s Day 40. It turns out, coming into this season a little belatedly is okay. We still have 40 days to lay down the things that are obstructing our faith. To pick up the things that draw us closer to Him.

It’s not a traditional Lenten “what I’m giving up” resolution. But this is no traditional year. If ever there was a time to deal with dark corners of my life in order to live more filled up with Light, then this is it.

So then, since we have a great High Priest who has entered heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to what we believe. This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same testings we do, yet he did not sin. So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most. Hebrews 4

A Real Valentine’s Story

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I’ve written about this before. My penchant for tidy love stories. Hallmark endings – especially those Valentine’s ones all over the airwaves this week. Love without all the gritty reality like debates over money and schedules, tension, distance, silence. They are all cycles that pass, mixed with love and goodness and laughter and, sometimes, even romance. But the Instastory date nights give way to laundry and tired, rushed school mornings.

Bray and I will celebrate 15 years of marriage in May. We have spent every Valentine’s Day together since 2004. We do marriage utterly imperfectly but we do it together and we’ve stuck through some of the other’s highs and lows.

I will also admit that I’m not the easiest person to be married to. Shocking, I know. It’s no secret that I’m a control freak, struggling constantly to hand things over to God. That’s a messy and inconsistent battle. I’m also very opinionated. It’s a miracle I ever married. You may remember our first night meeting we debated over drilling in ANWR. (You can’t make this up!)

Luckily, he’s very opinionated too and isn’t scared of strong opinions.

We each have our really great points too. One of those is that we both love deeply, loyally, and empathetically. So when I’m suffering, boy oh boy do I know my husband is right there in the trenches with me.

Which is why these messy, true reality love story blog posts pop up when we’re in hard seasons. Usually when I’m facing some crazy medical challenge. He’s had his share of my medical stuff – weird brain cyst, knee surgery, infertility, gallbladder removal, C-section, etc., etc.

Cancer was one we didn’t predict.

My surgery last Thursday went well. Thank you all so much for praying. There are no words for the prayers, calls, texts, emails, messages, cards, etc. We felt completely covered.

The surgeon was able to cleanly remove the tumor from my right breast, as well as remove clean lymph nodes (thank you Jesus!). Then the plastic surgeon moved tissue from my left breast to my right one, and then pulled them both back up a notch so they will be a better version of their former selves. I have a drain tube in my right side, and between that tube and the lymphnode removal under my armpit, it’s the hardest hit area.

When I sleep, I have to lay on my back, not moving. My chest hurts and burns and itches and sears. My back aches from my immovability. But mainly this tube. It’s a pain and it causes pain.

My husband HATES blood. Really not a fan of needles, blood, medical goo. And yet. Every single morning and every single night, he clears my tube, empties my little fluid bag, and records it on a chart for the surgeon. I do not know how. Twice a day.

He brings me ice cold water with a straw. He juggles a really demanding job with school lunches and drop offs and groceries. It’s a lot on him right now, but he does it all without one word of complaint. All while taking care of me. And loaning me his big button up fishing shirts because they’re the most comfortable to wear.

I tried to shower this weekend, per the doctor’s orders, and remove my bandages, and I nearly passed out. I didn’t want him to see my scars but I could not dry off or get dressed. He’s outside the door asking to help and I’m juggling a towel trying to figure out if I manage without him (I can’t).

As I talked to two recent double mastectomy friends, a surgical process far more painful and invasive than mine, they shared their own reality love stories. These quiet husbands in the background we aren’t celebrating like we should.

One friend said she couldn’t take a shower for weeks. Her husband would help her into a shallow bath to wash. She was so worried about him seeing her scars and what it would mean for their future intimacy but he never stopped.

My other friend had FOUR drain lines. For weeks. She barely remembers that season because of her pain. Her husband cleaned and tended to all her lines every single day. When I called with a question about my line, she had to ask him because he had been the one taking care of them.

These stories aren’t on the cover of magazines. They don’t make tidy Hallmark movies (woman struggles with cancer, loving husband cleans her drains…). But these are what those vows were about. In sickness and in health.

This is love.

There is no bouquet of roses or candlelit dinner this Valentine’s Day that will compare with this romantic saga.

I look at those two pictures. The pretty Insta-worthy one from our beautiful date night before surgery. It was a gift. We had a blast. It’s important to do the romance stuff too.

But the second one is love. It’s the one of me after my shower. Hair wet. Dressed by my husband and settled into a recliner to relieve some of the pain.

Anyone can do a fancy dinner out. Dress up. Play some music. Sip on a cocktail under patio twinkle lights. Oh, but the other stuff. That’s harder. That’s what gets you to 15 years.

I’m no sage. I have no idea what the next 15 years looks like. And I’m a child of divorce and I know how quickly and easily those attacks come. Today though, I’m smitten. Besotted. Still taken by this husband of 15 years.

Grateful most of all.

Gratitude, and Learning to Receive

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I’ve been practicing gratitude for years. I’m an optimist, so gratitude, seeing the good, is a tool I can implement. Receiving, on the other hand, is harder for me.

I’ve mentioned we grew up without a lot. Lots of love and community, but not a lot financially. We often were on the receiving end of many kind people’s donations – clothing, food, Christmas, etc. But as a result of that, by the time I was in my 20s, I felt strongly I never wanted to be on the receiving end. I’m more than happy to give, but if someone even wanted to buy me a cup of coffee, then I sought the opportunity to buy theirs the very next time.

At the worst of this struggle with receiving, it was almost like I kept a scorecard in my head so I wasn’t “taking.”

The past couple of months have taught me, and my husband, a lesson in learning to receive.

The outpouring of love and provision has honestly overwhelmed us.

I was voxing my best friend today because I was so overwhelmed I didn’t even feel like I could ask God for anything else because we had been given SO MUCH. She and I started discussing how we can both use these times in our lives when God rains down generosity in the hard seasons to testify to His goodness while simultaneously recognizing that is not everyone’s experience.

Everyone does not have a community to show up. Everyone does not have test results answered as they cried out for in the middle of the night. But she shared this as we talked: You have to be careful not to diminish God’s goodness or His ability to do something powerful in your situation just because there may be other people who are not getting the miracles that you are. Because the reality is that happens all the time. We saw miracles with Isaac [her son] and then we didn’t. But we saw miracles after his death too… If our story of God’s goodness and God’s love can draw people to Him, then it’s an honor to be able to walk that path.

So I wanted to write this down. Here. To lay down a marker and a reminder of His lavish goodness. To remind myself, when the miracles don’t always look like this.

I know not everyone has these answers to prayers. I recognize there is such suffering and prayers called out that don’t see answers like they had hoped (I know because that’s been me too). So I pray for others as I sit in hospital waiting rooms, lying on hard tables in operating gowns.

Here, today, I mark the goodness of God in our situation.

From the beginning, in December, people showed up. We had a pan of enchiladas from neighbors, a bag of items specially selected for me and the kids from law school friends who had polled survivors, we had flowers from parents of kids friends, and we had cookies, oh mercy did we have cookies (and bread!) from friends near and far.

And I was doing fine, better than fine, I was managing. Juggling. Doing the things. Until COVID hit. January 10th I fell apart. That’s when community utterly covered us in love and help. Before, we had affirmatively been turning down offers. Now, I weakly replied, “okay, thank you…”

For seven straight days, provision arrived. Baskets on the front door. Meals and meals. Treats to cheer. Parents from the kids school, colleagues, friends, neighbors, it was insane. On one day, we had delivery from our favorite Mexican spot, a bag full of frozen meals from a neighborhood eatery, cards, and two bags full of fresh fruit.

We were so completely covered in prayers and kindness during the double-C whammy last month.

Life normalized last week, then this week there was so much to pray over. I was particularly focused on yesterday’s COVID test coming back negative. It seemed insane that everyone in my house could have tested positive for COVID and I could have escaped it. Miraculous.

There’s a story in the Bible where a man asking for a miracle says, “Lord I believe, help my unbelief.” I felt like that. Lord, I believe this test can come back negative and heavens know so many are praying for that result so the surgery can proceed, but please help my unbelief…

People planned meals to cover us for the rest of this week. A dear friend is taking the boys on Friday to keep things a little less hectic on my first day post-op. All the moms from the kids grade delivered a gorgeous care package full of items that I’ll need for the reconstruction recovery. My best friend and her daughter are counting down the days until their arrival next week.

Bray and I even got an incredible surprise last night when our date night at one of our favorite spots and the check was covered by someone.

As I laid in an operating gown today, waiting for a dye injection so the surgeon could find my lymph nodes tomorrow, I didn’t even feel like I could pray. Tears leaked out of my eyes, ones I wasn’t even prepared for, and I said, God, it’s been too much. Too much goodness. Too much care. So many answers. I feel guilty. Greedy. I can’t even ask for this dye test to take on the first round because it seems insane to receive any more answers to prayers.

The good news is, God isn’t up in Heaven counting out blessings. Oops, seven for you this week – that’s too many. Need to make sure you don’t get any more… or Darnit, I can’t help Ron today because I took such good care of you…

I think sometimes that’s how we see Him though. We see everything so finitely.

But I’m learning. Tonight, three incredibly beautiful Godly women showed up on my back patio to pray over me. We’ve been in a discipleship group together since the fall. They are so precious to me. They laid their hands on me and prayed for God’s mercy and healing and for his blessings on my family and medical care team too. As we prayed, this wind blew through us and the wind chimes sang. The Spirit saying, I’m always enough. I have infinitely more than you need. Or ask. Or imagine. Let go. Trust me.

So I thank Him for his lavish provision. And I thank you for walking alongside me down this bumpy fork in the road.

We are reading through the Psalms as a family. Tomorrow is Psalm 23. Another gift. From a God of infinite mercies.