Gindi Vincent

Six Months Later

August 4, 2021 by Gindi 5 Comments

Six months ago, I walked into MD Anderson alone (because of COVID) to have a malignant tumor cut out of my right breast.

Six months ago.

There are days it feels like I just finished but most of the time it feels more like years.

I wanted to write to mark the milestone.

I haven’t been back in to MD Anderson since early May.

My follow up appointments come in September and October. I’ll have new imaging to confirm all is clear and will continue on that twice a year schedule until they tell me I’m allowed to go back to annual appointments.

I’m taking Tamoxifen and will be on some sort of estrogen blocking drug for five years. My tumor was estrogen positive so these meds help to limit recurrence.

Before we left for Bar Harbor I thought it had caused blood clots, a possible side effect, so I sat in a couple of ERs. Finally, I got in to see my primary doctor, and it wasn’t blood clots but just bad leg cramps. Another side effect. The oncologist allowed me a three week break from the medicine, but now I’ve resumed. I’m still having the cramps but they are manageable.

Besides the tiny white pill, there are other side effects.

My right breast (this is yucky but the unvarnished truth) itches all the time. I’m assuming it is all that scar tissue healing but it drives me insane. And you can’t exactly walk around scratching your side boob.

Laugh. Sigh.

Bras don’t fit quite right. I just bought three new ones and it’s better, but I’d rather be braless. That is usually frowned upon in Corporate America though. Actually, it’s frowned upon anywhere in American for a mom in her 40s.

The most painful side effect is from the radiation. I’ve lost some range of motion in my right shoulder. It hurts to lay on my right side. I have a hard time getting some tops on and off.

My friend and I have started working out together again in the mornings (5:15 – yawn!). I’ve noticed that it feels like my right shoulder and chest muscles are shredding as I work out. But I’m hopeful the pain will lessen with workouts. Maybe this new work out regime will not only help me lose the pandemic/cancer pounds, but also really improve my strength and range of motion on the right side. I take responsibility for having let it go this long without working it more.

Besides all this physical stuff, there is another less tangible side effect.

Overall, DURING the cancer, I was pragmatic. I try to be efficient. Action oriented. Craft a to do list and then cross things off.

So I did that with cancer. Talk to these people. Get these doctors. Calendar these items.

KNOCK. IT. OUT.

I even had people say, kindly and supportively, if anyone can kick cancer’s butt, it’s you.

We all know that’s not true. Cancer does not care if you are efficient or action oriented. It is no respecter of age or gender or disposition. (Sadly, much like COVID.)

Yet, I DID ALL THE THINGS.

Except. I don’t know that I ever processed it. I’m not sure I grieved.

There are places emotions have leaked out, but not so much in the cancer space.

Then I was asked to share my story to a cancer support group. The two women who run the group chatted with me over Zoom and asked me to share my story with them. So I started walking through what happened. And I just started crying.

I had no control over it.

It even caught me off guard.

I remember saying, through tears, as I shared, I guess this is all still really fresh.

So I’m looking back at that time and figuring out if there’s some emotional work I need to be doing too. If the physical work is necessary, and overdue, isn’t the mental and emotional?

The absolute best side effect of cancer has been helping others with their diagnosis. Three weeks to the day after my last radiation appointment, I was able to connect with three women who received their first diagnosis. I had a coffee. A conference call. Made a cancer bag like others did for me. I feel so honored to be able to walk with others through this valley.

But instead of just jumping in with both feet to help, which my little Enneagram 3 Wing 2 does on autopilot, I need to process some things as well. If I’m actually going to be of any help to others struggling, I need to be healthy. And honest about what cancer meant in my life and my family’s lives. Honest about what it means for our future.

It’s six months today.

I am incredibly grateful for my outcome.

Overwhelmed by the people who surrounded us.

Indebted to a Savior and Heavenly Father who held me through it all.

And I’m hopeful. For what’s next.

The Great Bah-Habah Getaway

July 1, 2021 by Gindi Leave a Comment

I promised I would write about our gorgeous Bar Harbor, Maine vacation. (Otherwise known as Bah Habah up north…)

And I also have about a zillion posts running around in my head.

The one about 5^th grade graduation.

The one about summer.

Another one about friends.

I think I used so many words during cancer I ran out for a while.

So this week I’m working on all those backlogged posts and today is VACATION!

This is mainly logistics because so many of you mentioned you’re interested in taking a vacation to Maine. I HIGHLY recommend it. Bray and I honeymooned in Bar Harbor but it had been 15 years since we’d been back. A lot has changed.

First up: When to go?

We honeymooned in May and that was way too early because everything was closed. This time we went the first full week in June. It’s still a wee bit early. If I had to redo it, I’d do late June. Before the insane 4^th of July and after crowds (July and August are peak months), but it seems everything is open by Father’s Day.

Second up: How to go?

We wanted to show the kids Boston, so we flew roundtrip in and out of Boston. It’s a 4 ½ hour drive from Boston to Bar Harbor. It’s worth doing, but if you have the travel budget or air miles, I’d recommend flying in to Boston on the way up but flying back out of Bangor or Portland. We rented an SUV and you absolutely need a rental to get around Maine.

Third up: Where to stay?

There are plenty of inns, hotels, and B&Bs in the area but we are all about staying in a house. Especially when we are somewhere for a week. We found a gorgeous rental on the water, and the closer I am to the water the better off I feel. This is the rental where we stayed:

I have mixed feelings about it. Location was perfect. Nestled at the back of a dirt road right on the water with private steps to the beach (they’re rocky there) and a firepit where we could roast s’mores. There was also really good living space – open living room with a kitchen that looked out on the living space and water. But there were definitely drawbacks. There was no AC and it was VERY hot our first few days (recordbreaking, in the 90s). The laundry was in a dank basement, so I had to schlep all our clothes from the second story to the basement to wash. The “heated” pool was not very heated so even with high temps and sunny skies, thankfully, the water was quite cold. We had some problems with the hot water. All in all, I’m glad we had a nice big home on the water, but this particular spot was probably overpriced for what we got.

Fourth up: What do you do?

If you start in Boston, I highly recommend eating in the North End. We had an incredible dinner from Giacomo’s (it’s tiny, go early, bring cash). I thought the pastries from Mike’s were over-hyped, but maybe do it anyway. We did a Duck Tour – it was meh. I loved the one in DC. We had a blast at the Boston Tea Party museum and reenactment. Walk Freedom Trail.

Once in Bar Harbor, you can’t go without spending time at Acadia National Park. (Pro tip – kids are free in 4th grade and because of the pandemic they were free for 5th grade too so we got two years of free National Park admissions!) We loved it. There was so much good there. Among the things you must do at Acadia are:

Us and Cadillac Mountain – 15 years later

Make a reservation for Cadillac Mountain Road – they’re easy enough to get but you can’t go up and hike Cadillac Mountain without getting one. After hiking around Cadillac Mountain on Monday, we got another reservation for Friday so we could do it again.
Go to Sand Beach – it is a sand beach. I know, I know, so what. But the beaches in Maine are rocky and this is really beautiful. Set into the clefts of the rocks. Water is freezing but kids got in anyway.
Definitely walk Jordan Pond – I loved this area. So beautiful. And after you walk around the pond, which is not at all strenuous, then you go to Jordan Pond House. They’ve been around since the late 1800s and are known for their popovers and jam. Parking is insane near Jordan Pond so plan on going earlier in the day whenever you decide to visit so you can find parking. We had to try two days in a row.
Drive Park Loop Road and pull off when you see something interesting. It’s long, almost 30 miles, but has all sorts of cool stops like Thunder Hole, Otter Cliffs and Cove, and carriage roads.

In addition to Acadia, we ended up with several great outings throughout the week. We had such fun on our two hour LuLu Lobster Boat Ride with a lobsterman who taught us a lot about lobster and lobster fishing.

We saw the FIRST whale of the summer season when we went out on our Bar Harbor Whale Watching tour. It is long – we were on the water over five hours one afternoon in search for a whale. And if you get seasick, you probably will. (We had several folks throwing up on the catamaran.) We loved it though. Well three of the five of us loved it. Two of us tolerated it.

Diver Ed wasn’t open yet when we were there but we’ve heard rave reviews.

And the kids absolutely loved their day kayaking on Long Pond. It was gorgeous, rentals were reasonable through National Park Kayak Rentals, and there was even a spot to jump in and swim near where you launched at the south end. It’s WAY bigger than a pond.

Fifth up: RELAX. It’s gorgeous.

We really did unwind. It took a few days. Bray got sick the day before we left, just feeling generally crummy and wasn’t back to himself until Monday or Tuesday. Then to add insult to injury, the baby got an ear infection on Saturday so we spent Sunday morning in an urgent care getting checked out.

I was super grateful I had planned very little – each day was a design your own adventure. I listed our options and had only made reservations for the Duck Boat Tour in Boston, the Lobster Boat trip in Bar Harbor, and the Whale Watching. That let each of us do our own thing. For me, it was walking Jordan Pondan and having popovers. While for Bray, it was lobster at lunch and dinner (we made that happen for all but Monday’s lunch). For the kids, it was returning to Cadillac Mountain and Sand Beach, which we did on Friday. We definitely didn’t do everything, but we did a lot.

Watch sunsets on the water every night.

Laugh.

Build a fire. (You can do that in Maine in the summer.)

Avoid the freaky and painful browntail moth caterpillar. (That drops from trees. And sits on Adirondack chairs.)

Try something new.

Eat lobster. And ice cream. And don’t miss the Allagash white beer, on draft.

Play music outside.

Reset.

15 Years

May 6, 2021 by Gindi Leave a Comment

Fifteen years.

Well, this one has been a doozy.

Global pandemic.

Two hurricanes hitting the farm.

Work at feverish pace.

Cancer.

Still. We got from Year 14 to Year 15 intact.

It’s curious this marriage thing.

One year can look entirely different from the year before.

That’s particularly helpful to remember if it was hard year.

But this marking of years, these anniversary celebrations, are important. These big circles on the calendar say, “You did it! You two, working together, hung in there and helped each other and invested in your family. No matter what hit you, you two are still standing.”

I reread some of my earlier anniversary posts this morning. You know, I used to label the years.

I don’t know if I’m wiser now or life is just more nuanced, but I don’t have a catchy one liner to sum up what God has done in us and for us over the past twelve months.

But those words from years gone by still ring true. I remember how hard year 7 was when I penned: Don’t let the circumstances of the NOW fool you into thinking this will be your circumstances in the LATER. Every day is a new opportunity.

On our ten year meeting each other anniversary, I wrote a remembrance, and concluded: You have been one-quarter of my life. But it feels like all of it. Like you’ve been who I needed my whole life. And he has been.

I’ve tried to be honest. To write about how I make mistakes and try to learn (and I still have so far to go). Year 9 I recapped some of that with a story with this moral: Hanging in there through the tears and triumphs teaches us how to spot our own relationship weaknesses. Sticking it out through the best and worst of times makes you a better person.

This is what has been true. We show up. It’s messy and beautiful. Hard and then easy. Awesome and then not remotely awesome. Our kids turn twelve this year. That’s the age I was when my parents divorced. I don’t attempt to rewrite what their story was but it informs how I live my story.

Showing up. He shows up and I show up with our flaws and our imperfections. Some days we’re a little more present than others. In year 12, it’s what struck me too: He shows up. Every day. On the days I’m good and charming and encouraging and amorous and funny. But he still totally shows up on the days I’m sad or losing my temper or sarcastic or inconsistent. And now, three years after I wrote those words, they are still completely true.

I know it’s not true for everyone. I know so many have felt the heartache of leaving or having been left or someone taken too soon. This just makes me all the more grateful to be standing here on this fifteenth May 6th.

I’ll end with the line from the classic 10 year anniversary retrospective blog post, it’s just as true today: And my prayer is that I’ll still be writing all the new things I love about him at 20 years and 30 years and 40 years.

Happy Anniversary Babe! Here’s to the next 15!

New Look at Date Night

April 13, 2021 by Gindi Leave a Comment

Friday night, I went on a date with my husband of almost 15 years.

The fact that we went on a date isn’t the oddity.

It’s the fact that it was sort of like a real date, pre-pandemic.

We ate inside of a restaurant. Then we went to a lovely small venue to hear the band that was playing the night we met.

I bought those tickets in February 2020 for our anniversary weekend May 2020.

As you might imagine, the show was delayed. To September. Then delayed some more.

They finally reset the date for April 9^th. One month before our 15^th wedding anniversary.

I wasn’t all that optimistic going into it.

It was on a Friday night after a hectic week and we’d been having some disagreements about several issues. Sitting across from each other at a quiet corner table wasn’t probably high on either one of our lists.

We used to have date nights once a month when he was in the restaurant business. We’d slip off for a couple hours when the kids were little and have a drink at the bar at his restaurant nearby. Catch up. Trade information we’d forgotten to trade in the haze of the work week.

It helped. Those date nights. Even in the hard years.

So off we went on Friday, leaving the kids with a new sitter (over their objections).

Dinner was great.

I’ve been getting some bids for a small home remodeling project and we were able to talk through that. As well as talk about everything from work to the kids junior high elective options.

We walked across the street to this old refurbished theater and settled in. Everyone was spaced out and the waiter was super attentive.

The band came on. Two guys who sing and play the guitar along with their three back up bandmates. They sounded just like they did one night in December 2003 at the Mucky Duck.

There are these parts with this very deep and powerful guitar and I could feel the music in my bones.

I thought I would burst into tears.

It felt surreal. After all these months. To be sitting there listening to a concert.

I thought of this devotional my friend sent to me from the Episcopal Diocese’s Rev. Mariann Budde: After an initial season of suffering, as healing begins, we have moments, even days, when we feel surprisingly strong and whole. We have energy, and a sense that our lives have possibility again, and indeed, they do. The joy we feel is overwhelming. Yet because we have no reserves of energy to draw from, we are quickly depleted to the point of exhaustion. And there’s no warning–one moment we’re fine and the next we simply must lie down, leave the room, or immediately stop whatever it is we’re doing. The good news is that we’re on the path of healing. The challenge is to be patient with the process…

We’ve all been so isolated. I think back on the past 12 months in our lives. Global pandemic, home schooling, two hurricanes, family contracting COVID, separation from family, cancer diagnosis and treatment.

In one year.

Last week started feeling somewhat normal.

I returned to the office. My burns are starting to heal. My energy level is starting to increase. The kids played their games and went to practices. Bray and my work schedule was nuts. We juggled all the things and did it with enthusiasm.

But we have no reserves of energy to draw from.

We think we’re moving back into normal mode but then these waves wash over you.

I feel joy but I can’t feel it in a vaccuum. I feel it alongside sorrow.

Sitting there, in the dark, feeling the music in my bones, I flashed back to law school. I caught the live music bug there, in Nashville. We’d go to these little venues, big ones too, but weekend hole in the walls were the best. Emerging bands would play. It was the mid 90s and there was all this great rock. We’d go hear Petty and Kravitz but I also remember hearing Alanis at law school before she released her first cd (remember, before streaming…).

I would feel the music in my bones. And I had to go back. I needed more. It was my drug of choice. Live music. Whenever I could afford it.

Then I flashed back to that Friday night the week after Thanksgiving in 2003. My friends and I went to hear Jackopierce at this tiny venue. We went to the first show at 7. Bray and his brother came at the break for the second show, although they actually came for us girls. Bray and I had our first conversation with Won’t you stay on the vineyard for the summer… and Get to know me better wafting in the background.

I could see it all.

But at some point in 2020 it felt like we weren’t going to dig out of this dark hole.

Of course we would.

But it felt endless.

Concerts seemed to be particularly out of reach. No live music, maybe for years.

Here we were. Music amped. One week after I rang the bell. No more cancer treatments. Fully immunized and able to go to hear live music.

I was talking to our waiter after the concert when we closed our tab. This is the first time I’ve really be “out” since this all started last year, I told him. (The band said this was their first outing too! “Happy New Year” they proclaimed!)

He responded, I know. It’s been so crazy. And we need this. We need each other. We need community.

I’d missed it all so much.

Everything.

The people.

The waiters.

And oh the music.

It felt so hopeful.

So I allowed a tear to leak out, and then I smiled, held Bray’s hand, and sang along, won’t you stay on the vineyard for the summer, won’t you stay on the vineyard for the year…

Day 23 – Ring the Bell

March 31, 2021 by Gindi 2 Comments

It’s done. I rang the bell.

Hallelujah!

It was a really good day.

I cried on and off all day. I’m just so overwhelmed by the goodness of God.

Music is a big part of my faith experience. I love music and it’s so often the tool God uses to draw me close.

Driving to my last radiation treatment, I turned on the radio. I don’t often listen to our local Christian radio station while driving to the hospital, I might listen to news or a podcast, but this morning I felt compelled.

While driving in, this was the playlist that came on: Jericho by Andrew Ripp, Dry Bones by Lauren Daigle, Waymaker by Leeland, and Known by Tauren Wells.

If you’re not familar with these songs, here some of the lyrics:

Long before I ever called your name, you were fighting for my victory. Carved in your flesh and bone are wounds that have said my soul’s forgiven. All of my fears like Jericho walls gotta come down, come down… (Jericho)

But we know that You are God, Yours is the victory. WE know there is more to come that we may not yet see. So with the faith You’ve given us we’ll step into the valley unafraid. As we call out to dry bones, come alive, come alive. We call out to dead hearts, come alive, come alive. Up out of the ashes, let us see an army rise. We call out to dry bones, come alive. (Dry Bones)

And you are way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness. My God, that is who you are. (Waymaker)

I’m fully known and loved by You. You won’t let go, no matter what I do. And it’s not one or the other, it’s hard truth and ridiculous grace to be known, fully known, and loved by you. I’m fully known and loved by you. (Known)

While I was at MD Anderson, the amazing team of therapists I had were so excited for me. My entire family came and stood outside the glass door that looks in at the bell so they could cheer me on. The women were so excited to “meet” the triplets they’d heard about.

After my final dose of radiation, we walked down the hall. You read a poem on the wall, “Ring this bell, three times well, it’s toll to clearly say, my treatment’s done, this course is run, and I am on my way!” Seriously, I’m crying typing it. I was crying reading it. Then you toll the bell three times. Bray and the kids were outside cheering.

I’d stopped for donuts for the therapists and picked some up for the kids too. I got to drop them off at school (a little late, we got special clearance to come celebrate with me)!

On our way to school, God blessed me with more music. Amen by King and Country and New Today by Micah Tyler. Resurrection day is here. Bells are ringin’ loud and clear. Caterpillar to a butterfly. Risen to another life. All the people say Amen! Amen! All the people say Amen! Amen! From death to life. Amen means SO BE IT. It is an affirmative response. And a conclusion. What a gift to have AMEN playing on the radio at my conclusion. Then:
Your mercies are new today, your mercies are new today. I can rest on your shoulders, there is grace to start over, your mercies are new today. (New Today) After the conclusion, I had the gift of a reminder: TODAY IS NEW! There is grace to start over. Today is a fresh start.

What a gift. God affirming messages through music that He has been teaching me all along the way. People all day trickled in with texts and messages. A dear friend dropped flowers. A precious co-worker zoomed me. (Ha!)

After little bit’s softball practice, Bray took us all out to dinner to celebrate. We went to the exact same spot he took us after we’d found out the cancer news and we were all so sad. We had laughed so hard that night, for the first time in two days, and it was such a celebration this time. He ordered champagne and dessert, big splurges for us, and we ended up seeing three separate families we knew at the restaurant who cheered us too! I opened a good bottle of wine a precious executive had given me a few years back for a big win. I let him know he was helping us celebrate another big win.

It’s all been a gift. All of it. The drains and the miracle of how it got out. The surgeon and the miracle of how I got her. COVID and the miracle of how everyone caught it but me. The community who utterly surrounded us and loved us and showered us with their presence and their presents.

I’m not out of it. I’m still burned and tired and it will take a few weeks. But I’m SO completely deep in my bones grateful. For this. For God. For my family. And for you.

« Previous Page