Short Update:  I'm still cancer free and blessed! Over the weekend, my surgical incision from December got infected and the infection spread so quickly that I ended up in the emergency room for IV antibiotics.  Yesterday, I had to have surgery to remove my expander and am recovering well.  Keith is going to send me back to the doll hospital in a month or so to try again.

More importantly, one of my nurses has a twenty-five-year-old autistic son who is being discriminated against in his own neighborhood.  This precious family could really use some love from strangers since they have received so much criticism and judgement.  Would you be willing to contribute financially or do you have another idea of how we can help them? What would make you feel loved when the world rejected your son?

venmo Heather Link @Heather-Link-11

https://venmo.com/code?user_id=2748387271114752972

The Not so Short Update:

Well, none of this NONSENCE was actually on the plan! I had a much faster recovery from the second mastectomy that I had done on December 3rd and felt strong by Christmas.  After eleven grueling months of testing and treatment, I was finally starting to feel like myself again!  I started working out with Camp Gladiator again and Keith and I painted our entire kitchen walls and trim.  I had almost completely healed six weeks after surgery, but didn’t quite make it.

On Friday January 15th I felt unusually exhausted.  It was our family’s first day back at homeschool co-op and I had a lot to do to prepare for the weekend so I just pushed through right along with the other sixty exhausted homeschool moms.  Laura and I had big plans to drive to Austin so she could play in a soccer tournament.  We wanted to make it a memorable girls’ weekend and Keith agreed to hold down the fort in Dallas.  It was an especially sweet time for me because we attended the same tournament last year and that is pretty much the last thing I remember before getting diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer. 

I started feeling really bad on the drive down to Pflugerville and hoped I was just tired.  I didn’t have any appetite at all which is insane because Laura and I stopped at Buc-ee’s and that is pretty much the best snack stop on the entire planet.  I mean seriously, if you can’t find something good to eat at Buc-ee’s you might as well just head on over to the doll hospital. 

We finally made it to the hotel and by 8:30 I was falling asleep.  I really wanted to enjoy my one special weekend with Laura but I absolutely could not keep my eyes open.  A sweet family member had recommended that we watch 50 First Dates and Laura’s precious laughs cooed me right to sleep.  I woke up in the middle of the night with an obvious fever and since I didn’t go to medical school but do sometimes read the news, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had COVID -19.  I wasn’t sure if it was the regular old COVID or the super terrible even worse one with a British accent, but I recognized that I could be contagious and that the Link gals were going to have to turn right back around and take our germs back home.  I knew Laura would be devastated to miss the tournament but had made peace with our circumstances.

In the morning I was actually relived to discover that I just had an infection at the surgical site.  I was so happy that I wasn’t contagious and emailed my surgeon for instructions.  He called me in some pretty blue antibiotics and I picked them up right there in Pflugerville. (I mean if you are looking for a pharmacy could there be a town with a more promising name?) My surgeon did mention that these types of infections can get serious on occasion and that if I spiked a fever, I should just go to the emergency room.  I, of course, knew that wouldn’t happen and that everything would be fine.  Laura and I proceeded to enjoy Torchy’s Tacos, a couple of wonderful soccer games, and Mod Pizza. 

Silly, silly, girl!  I will spare you all the miserable details, but by midnight it was quite clear that this delicate china doll was headed to the emergency room.  I was so sick that I was actually scared.  I am so extremely thankful for our amazing community!  Keith and my mom were two hundred miles away and couldn’t help, but our soccer family stepped right in.  A dear friend took Laura to the tournament where they proceeded to WIN!  I’m actually slightly surprised they could handle it without my awesome cheerleading and that the referees made it through without me gently helping them out.  Anyway, Keith found me a Baylor Scott & White Emergency Room about ten minutes away from the hotel and they took great care of me.  By the time I was all full of IV antibiotics and checked out from the hospital, another friend was waiting to drive my car home. 

In case you don’t already know, getting sick on the Friday night of a holiday weekend isn’t really convenient for most surgeons.  Fortunately, my awesome plastic surgeon was able to schedule an emergency surgery at Medical City Dallas for Tuesday.  During my surgery in December, he had inserted an expander to help round things out.  Because of the infection, he had to schedule this emergency surgery to remove it.  Now I have about a month to heal and hopefully we will schedule another surgery to put another one in.  If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. 

During this roller coaster, I was extremely disappointed, angry, devastated, scared, overcome with all the emotions and just so totally over doctors and IV’s and hospitals and COVID and trying to fight to get better!!! Everything happened so fast and so dramatically and it just felt like a huge setback on the seemingly never-ending journey to beating breast cancer.  On Thursday I felt strong and optimistic.  By Sunday the ER physician wanted to admit me because the infection was so dangerous and I was emotionally devastated! Praise God, with the magic potions I felt pretty good again by Tuesday morning. 

These surgeries are so dangerous and so scary and are really just about my own vanity.  Plus, I absolutely hate all the limitations.  One of the biggest restrictions I am concerned about is swimming.  I can’t go swimming until all incisions are totally and completely healed and I’m really hoping that we can complete all the reconstruction in time for me to swim with the kids this summer.  Adding two additional surgeries to the schedule makes that much less likely.  I hate that for me and for my kids!

Even sweet Olivya has learned to compare our family to others and see the faults.  I don’t know how this happened, but, the other day at the park she surprised me with her comments.  We cuddle and hug and I can help her climb around and she is super-fast on her own, but, I haven’t been able to fully pick her up since December. I was pushing her in the jogging stroller around Andy Brown Park and she pointed to another mom who picked up a little girl that looked about four.  She looked at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes and said, “Her mommy not have bo-bo.  Her mommy YES pick her up!!!” Like I said, I’m beyond over the limitations with the core of my being!

Anyway, I was busy feeling sorry for myself but super thankful that the antibiotics were working when I decided to spend some time with the Lord on Tuesday morning before surgery.  It finally occurred to me that maybe, just possibly, He could redeem the whole mess and now I think I might know what he had planned. 

Keith took me to meet with my surgeon before they admitted me and he actually said that the additional surgeries will probably help cosmetically long-term so that was a little encouraging. We went through the whole 3-ring circus experience at Medical City starting with meeting the concierge under the tree tops with the giant ants in the children’s section.  Then she actually gave us a map for our scavenger hunt with pictures and directions through all the mazes until we finally reached day surgery.  Keith and I absolutely felt like we were back at The Great Wolf Lodge doing Magic Quest and I really thought I would get a green rune of health when we found the fairy but they must have run out.  Then, the elves started shuffling papers and the dwarves got busy making sure my COVID and pregnancy tests were negative.  The fairies dressed me up in the revealing surgical gown with coordinating grippy socks and arm party of personalized bracelets.  Plus, they surprised me with an amazing pair of compression socks that I absolutely loved.  Most importantly, I got a chance to really chat with my intake nurse, a precious woman of God.  I truly believe this was a divine appointment. 

I met Nurse Minnie Mouse while waiting for surgery.  She came in to enter all my personal details into the computer, however, she forgot her magic wand and that persnickety computer just wouldn’t work.  She patiently kept restarting the system and trying to make it cooperate and that gave us lots more time to chat.  She shared that she was the mother of four children and that her oldest son was planning to get married.  She shared and she listened and she was incredibly kind.  Then I went down the freezing corridor to the surgical tundra and well, to be honest that’s when the magic potions knocked me out.

A couple of hours later, my magic rolling bed found its way back to Nurse Minnie Mouse.  I heard her say to another nurse that she was working intake and outtake which is apparently unusual.  The other nurse complimented her and made some comments that made me think my nurse was a very hard worker.   Over the next hour she took great care of me and we got to share a bit about our families and joys and frustrations.  And then she told me a story that made me angrier than I can remember being in a very long time.  I know there are a lot of injustices that happen every day and during our time as foster parents I had to work through a lot of righteous anger.  However, this story just blew my mind. 

Nurse Minnie Mouse has four handsome boys, one of whom has severe autism.  She has worked tirelessly during his twenty-five years to help him get the resources he needs, even when there wasn’t ever enough money or help to go around.  She was denied assistance at every turn and excluded from many places because he didn’t fit the mold.  They have even been asked to leave McDonalds and Chuck E Cheese for Pete’s sake. 

Two months ago, he moved into a nice group home with a wonderful caretaker that is dedicated to the care of two adult men.  Her son, who I will call the Gentle Giant is 6’5” and is fearfully and wonderfully made by a loving God that has a beautiful plan for his life.  He isn’t violent, doesn’t even like to be out in the cold, and usually stays inside using his iPad to communicate.  However, two weeks ago, an evil neighbor who I will call the Greedy Troll decided that he didn’t want anyone “special” living in his neighborhood so the Gentle Giant might have to move out of his comfortable home. 

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?  Imagine trying to process this level of selfish nonsense an hour after anesthesia with 10 MG of Norco pumping through your chemo weakened veins.  There isn’t a whole lot that can get me that fired up right after surgery but I decided then and there that something had to be done about the Greedy Troll.   Apparently, the Troll thinks having a special needs group home on his precious block might decrease property vales in the neighborhood so he is meeting with the Homeowner’s Association to boot the Giant and friends out. 

THAT IS NOT NICE AND YOU NEED A TIME OUT! I’ll show you what will lower your sacred house value, a minivan rammed into the front window.  I actually fantasized about asking that huge motorcycle gang that accompanied us home from Austin to pop wheelies and run up and down the street but realized that would just annoy everyone so I let it go.  Then I thought about contacting all the dog organizations and coordinating the first of a weekly poop party where all the dogs could just come and go on the Troll’s lawn.  That is still a possibility.  Then some ideas involving spray paint and eggs came into my mind but I’m really not a violent person and Holy Spirit stepped in.  I asked Nurse Minnie Mouse if I could pray with her and she said yes. 

Now earlier she had shared that she was Catholic, so she was probably expecting an “Our Father” or a little “Hail Mary.” What she got was a whole lotta spirit filled fury casting burdens that were way too heavy for human shoulders to bear into the able arms of our loving Jesus.  I may not remember all the details with the narcotics and all, but something Holy happened in that room and Keith can be the sober Link witness.  Afterwards, we were both crying and then she had to go to work and I had to go get dressed.  I mean seriously, how holy can you be when you aren’t wearing pants?  She briefly came back into my room to tell me that she was leaving and handing my care off to another nurse.  I told her that I wanted to do something for her and that I wasn’t clear headed enough to know what it was but she graciously gave me her name and contact information. 

As of yesterday, she wasn’t sure what she should do.  This ridiculous behavior has to be illegal so she might fight legally.  However, who wants to have their son live where they aren’t wanted?  The caretaker is understandably upset and doesn’t want to live in a hostile environment but also doesn’t want to have to pack up an entire household and unpack it again.  Plus, his patients hate change and are really loving their new home.  The landlord has another property that might work and everyone is at the end of their proverbial rope so it might just be easier to give in, move away from the Greedy Troll, and try again. 

So, what should I do?  What would you do?  I mean, it’s pretty obvious that she needs something from Noonday but then what?  I'm definitely getting her a shirt something like the one below too.  Breast cancer is terrible!  It is miserable but there is a huge welcoming family waiting out there to support me and lots of women that have beat it to cheer me on.  Autism is very different.  The Autism world can be a very lonely place. 

Her situation is so very unfair and makes me embarrassed to be a citizen of the same city as the Greedy Troll.  I hate it that someone thinks that living near another divinely created child of God might possibly reduce their own stack of gold.   I am actually disgusted when I think about how our society worships materialism and net “worth” without valuing actual people and the invaluable relationships they create.   I’m terrified that another greedy troll might treat my autistic son in a similar way someday and that is not OK!

I wonder if somehow me getting this incredibly traumatic infection was part of a divine plan for me to be part of Nurse Minnie Mouse’s story.  I wonder if living through this season of physical weakness is creating in me a spiritual strength that can help others in a spiritually weak season.  I would love to give her a cash donation and would love any contributions!  Any other ideas?  What would make you feel loved when the world rejected your son?

Lord willing, Keith and I will be headed back to the Medical City labyrinth for some new curves in a month or so.  I’m hoping to know more about Minnie’s story then and I’m praying it will be a happier chapter.

Love you all!  Do something nice for somebody.  It makes all the difference!

HJ, The Fragile Doll (that’s pronounced fra-GEE-lay y’all)