One Month Out

I can’t believe that I am just one month away from running my first half-marathon!  I also can’t believe how excited I am!

When I first decided to sign up for this race and raise money for The Sound of Hope, I was terrified.  13.1 miles is a long way.  2.5-3 hours is a long time to do anything (much less run).  $13,100.00 is a lot of money.  Along with all of these thoughts were all of the “what if’s” that go with them.  What if I can’t run that far?  What if I get hurt?  What if I can’t convince people that this is a worthy cause?  What if I can’t raise the money?  What if I can’t provide the things these Swazi kids so desperately need?  What if I fail?

I realized in the midst of listing my “what if’s” that they are all about me.  Even the ones that sound all sweet and selfless still ultimately land back on me and what I can do.  The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realized that this isn’t about me at all.  It is about kids who need an education.  It is about a community that needs medical care.  It is about people who need to be reminded that they are loved, valued, and worth every step that will be taken and every dollar that will be raised in the process.

Kristin’s Half for Hope from The Sound of Hope on Vimeo.

Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised at being so excited.  I’ve got a great plan to keep up all of my training for the next few weeks so that I can not just survive this half-marathon but maybe even enjoy it a little.  I already have over 20 people who have donated over $1,400.00 to help people they have never met and probably never will.  I’ve got an amazing team supporting me and reminding me that if I just do the next right thing, God will take care of the rest.  I’ve got all of you who see enough value in this to take time out of your day to read about what I am doing.  I’ve got incredible friends at The Sound of Hope who have put together the video (above) that shows why I am doing this far better than I could ever write.  We all spent hours creating this because we knew it would so vividly express why I’m doing what I’m doing! Please take just 3 minutes to watch it – then click the blue button at the end of the video (or the link below!) and donate to be a part of giving HOPE to those who need it the most!

DONATE HERE

#Kristins13for13

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But Not My Girl

Ever since the night of the seizure, I haven’t loved being a patient. I don’t like being poked, prodded, scanned, and examined, but I have become more and more accepting of this position for one main reason…it is me and not someone else. I can endure being inconvenienced or put through pain far more than I can handle watching someone else do the same. This (among many other reasons) is why what happened on Saturday morning was so hard to take.

Lydia had her first soccer game this Saturday and was so excited. Watching her nephews play over the years has had her asking when it would be her turn and this year she was finally old enough to join the league at Briarlake. About five minutes into the game, she took a hard ball to the jaw. Adam is helping coach her team and was on the field so she immediately ran to him for help. That was when a minor, shake it off type injury turned into something I never would have imagined. As Adam knelt down trying to console her, I saw her body jerk and then go limp as he lowered her to the ground.

In an instant my feet were moving to run to her and the tears were flowing as I went into full on panic mode. My first thought was “this can’t be happening”. Last Sunday I told the story of my seizure and health issues to the people of Briarlake Church in the building next door. Now, less than a week later, my five year old is having a seizure on the field outside. How is this possible?

The seconds she was unconscious seemed like hours. The minutes I was uncontrollably crying repeating “this can’t happen to our family…this can’t happen to our family” while the paramedics were called seemed like days. And the cries of my hurt and confused little girl seemed to go on for a lifetime.

Lydia had me take a picture of her jersey so she could see what the back looked like with her name on it

After a full examination by the wonderful staff at the Scottish Rite emergency room, they told us they do not think Lydia had a seizure or any severe head trauma. She tends to have a difficult time handling stress and a soccer ball to the face sent her to a level of anxiety we have never seen before in our little girl. They think she had a panic attack which got so severe that she briefly lost consciousness. Figuring out a way to help her handle stress and anxiety in the future is something we know we are going to have to make a priority so we can make sure something like this does not happen again. The next day, she was back to her old self and did not seem to have any lasting effects from everything that happened. Adam and I on the other hand are another story.

Lydia drew a picture for her Aunt T on the back of her discharge paperwork on our way home from the hospital so she would know she was ok

Ever since we started this crazy journey that began on the night of my seizure, I have learned a lot about trust. I have learned to have a huge amount of trust in my husband, my family, and our community (who once again flew into action on Saturday praying for us and providing for our family’s needs as soon as they learned about Lydia). I have learned to trust that my seizure, tumor, and every other piece of my medical insanity has not been by chance. But what about everything else? I would love to say that I have learned to completely trust God with everything in my life, but the more I think about it, the more I realize there are a lot of “buts” for me. I trust God with my health, BUT I feel like my kids’ and Adam’s health are off limits. I trust God with my future, BUT their future (and how anything in mine may impact them) is an area I don’t want to relinquish what control I think I may have. I trust God with my nephews, niece, sisters, brother, parents, dogs…BUT sometimes…well, I just don’t.

How do I trust? How do I make myself believe that God has not just my best interest in mind but all of those that I love? How do I convince myself that He loves my children, my husband, my family, and my friends more than I ever could?

I wish I had some super insightful answer to those questions. I wish I had the trust that I feel like so many people believe I have. It is then I am reminded THAT is exactly why Jesus came in the first place. Because we need Him. He doesn’t expect me to handle things on my own because, whether I can believe it right now or not, He is enough.

Better than the Best

There are no silver linings to report because there is not a dark cloud in sight!

After a rocky start to the morning when my Mom fell in the parking lot and we then learned I was double booked for the MRI machine with a breast biopsy patient, things went no where but up. Besides a few scrapes and bruises, Mom is ok. The doctor who had scheduled the other patient agreed to allow me to complete my scan before her since mine would be 45 minutes while hers may be over three hours. The staff at Northside Forsyth Hospital were over the top helpful and did everything they could to remedy the frustrations of the morning. Please pray for the patient who allowed her MRI to be delayed so mine could be completed in a more timely manner. It sounded to me that yesterday was just the start to a long journey for her and I pray she receives nothing but peace and great news.

We then began our tour of physicians. My neurosurgeon, Dr. Robinson, was first on the list. He was not able to review my MRI during my appointment because of issues with Northside’s remote radiology system but said he would go by the radiology department at the hospital before he left for surgery. We discussed the ongoing discomfort I’ve had on the back, right side of my head which he said he can give me a nerve block to help if it does not resolve. While I don’t feel that is necessary right now, it is nice to know it is an option.

We then swung by my chiropractor’s office so he could continue working on the problems I am having with my neck which are getting better with each appointment. Not long after I walked out of his office, I saw the number for my neurosurgeon pop up on my phone. Since Dr. Robinson had surgery to begin, his nurse was calling to fill me in. She started off by telling me he had reviewed my MRI and then said two words I still can’t believe I heard “it shrank”. I immediately said “I’m sorry…what”. Having been told that our best case scenario was no growth, it never entered my mind that we would hear news like this. She went on to tell me that because the tumor had gotten smaller, Dr. Robinson feels comfortable with us waiting a year for my next MRI.

With an extra pep in my step, we went to see my neurologist, Dr. Williams. When he came in the room, I told him I had an MRI that morning which he said he would go review. I didn’t tell him what Dr. Robinson had told me about the scan because I wanted to hear his objective opinion without knowing what someone else thought. As he came in the room and said “it is a little smaller, about 2mm” Adam and I could not contain our joy. Based on how the tumor has been growing since we have known about it, it should have been 2mm larger since my last scan. We will gladly take a 2mm change in direction no matter how small it may be.

We went on to discuss the possibility of me being on a lower dose of my medication at some point in hopes of reducing the side effects. I know being free from seizure meds is probably something that will never happen, but if we can get me on a dose that is effective and more comfortable, I would like to do it. He drew some blood to send to the lab to check the levels of a certain metabolite that is used to determine the level of medication in my system. Because it will have to be sent to a specialty lab for review, it may take more than a week for us to get results. If the results show that my levels are well above a level that is considered therapeutic, Dr. Williams will consider letting me drop from 800mg a day to 600mg a day. Because of the increased risk of seizure during the first few weeks after reducing medication, Dr. Williams has said he would like for me to avoid any high risk activity for the first month including driving or running by myself. We will not be able to make any decisions until the results from the blood work come in, and have decided even if they are positive, we will delay making a change until after my half marathon. Our prayer is that the results are not in a gray area. We either want my levels to be really high where reducing the dose seems likely to still be effective or low enough where reducing the dose is not an option.

As Dr. Williams left the room, he told us how happy he was for our good news. I realized that in the almost two years he has been seeing us, he has not gotten to give us any good news. I was one of the last patients he saw on Christmas Eve of 2015 when he had to tell us about the tumor. He had to give me the less than positive results about my first EEG and tell me that the tumor was in a less than ideal location near my cavernous sinus not where they originally thought it was on my frontal lobe. He had to tell me about my second EEG that was no different from the first and deliver the devastating blow that seizure medicine would be a forever thing for me. Yesterday he got to give us news that was better than our best case scenario.

As I was getting ready last night to go celebrate with our Decatur City small group, I couldn’t help but cry. For years our best news has been finding the silver linings on some very dark clouds. I almost don’t know what to do with pure, no strings attached good news. I realized as I was writing this that I never told everyone that we sold our house outside of Athens at the end of June. Even that news seems to still not be real. Yesterday the news was not just good, it was better than what we thought it could be.

What’s in Your Hand?

A few weeks ago, I heard a woman named Danielle Strickland speak and she asked this question; what’s in your hand? She went on to explain that so many times we default to telling God why we are not fit for something He has called us to do. I immediately realized that this was a message I desperately needed to hear. Over the last few years I have spent the majority of my time not focusing on what I have but on what I am lacking. My brain is not healthy, my system has not liked any of the medications I have been prescribed, and my body does not heal like it did when I was in my 20’s. I was so focused on all of those “nots” that I was completely missing all the great things that I have.

The first thing that came to mind when she asked “what’s in your hand” was “I can run”. Though my brain may be firing off in different directions only controlled by a medication I don’t like, my heart and lungs are strong and my legs have been running distances over the past few months that I never thought possible. I can run. The next day, I signed up for my first half-marathon which will take place on October 28th.

A few days later, I reached out to my dear friend, Ericka Jackson, told her I had signed up for this race, and I would like to use it to raise money for the non-profit she and her husband run called The Sound of Hope which exists to raise funds and awareness for orphans and vulnerable children around the world. I asked her to give me a number and told her I would do my best to raise every dollar I could to fund a couple specific projects for their organization.

After gathering the necessary information, Ericka told me about two needs they have in Nsoko, Swaziland. The first is a medical fund that will provide for the expenses of the entire community for all of next year. The second will pay to completely run the preschool and kindergarten programs as well as cover school fees for any older child who need assistance for 2018. The total to fund both of these needs is $13,100…a thousand dollars for each of the miles I will run in the half-marathon.

I want to kick off this fundraiser with a celebration. Today is my half-birthday. Today I get to thank the Lord for the 35.5 years He has given me on this planet. I can’t think of a better way of doing that than asking my family and friends to celebrate with me by donating $35.50 to help these amazing kids get their medical and educational needs covered for the coming year. Please follow the link below to learn more, to donate, and to be a part of The Sound Of Hope for the people of Nsoko, Swaziland.

Kristin’s Half for Hope

In 13 weeks I will run a little over 13 miles in the hopes of raising over $13,000. Today I hold in my hand something that I will wear around my neck on the day of my race. It is the fingerprint of a ten year old boy in Swaziland named Anele (pronounced uh-nelly). Anele is an orphan and one of the children who will be helped by the money we raise. On October 28th, hope for him will sound like my feet hitting the pavement as his fingerprint jingles around my neck. Thank you for all of your love, support, and for traveling with us through every step of this journey.

Where We Are

I have never been very good at living in the moment. I’ve always looked at each victory as a stepping stone to the next and each defeat as a chance to fix whatever went wrong the next time around. Analysis of the present was mainly for future use not just dealing with the current situation. Then a seizure and a brain tumor rocked our world and my inability to live life right where I am changed drastically.

Two of my favorite reminders of how great life is right where we are

Over the last few months, we have been in another medical lull. It may sound strange but I am not a big fan of these times where we are not doing anything to actively treat the tumor or find out new information. I have sprinkled in orthopedic appointments for my shoulder (which has been an issue for years) and chiropractic appointments for new issues with my neck and back, but with a greater issue looming, even these doctors tend to downplay anything else I bring to their attention. Imagine my surprise when I glanced at the calendar and realized I have my next MRI coming up in a few short weeks.

Of all the scans I have had, this MRI on August 4th is the one that excites/terrifies me the most. We have been told that our best case scenario is to see no change. Because of the kind of tumor I have, the doctors do not think it is likely that the gamma knife radiation will cause it to shrink. No growth from my MRI in January is their hope.

While I would like to say that my hope is for the tumor to have shrunk or gone away completely, the truth is, I don’t really care if it shrinks as long as it doesn’t grow. After my EEG showed that the seizure activity in my brain has remained the same, a decrease in the size of the tumor makes no change in my day to day. Tumor or no tumor, I will be on medication every day for the rest of my life. I am not being pessimistic, just very aware of the reality of my medical situation.

The big “what if” is what happens if the tumor has grown. The odds of gamma knife being a success are over 95%. What happens if I am in the less than 5%? What if we learn on the 4th that the procedure in February did not stop the growth of the tumor? If gamma knife did not work the first time, it is highly unlikely it will work if we do it again and surgery will be our only option.

A few months ago, I met a lovely couple, Rick and Cindy Weatherman, while Adam and I were in Hilton Head. Adam had recently discussed a possible position with Vulcan in Charlotte, NC with me so imagine my surprise when I asked them where they live to hear Cindy cheerfully say “we’re from Charlotte”. As is my tendency, I jumped 1,000 steps ahead and immediately launched into questions about where we should live, where the kids should go to school, and where our family should go to church. Before the end of our hour long conversation, I had already decided we were going to be closing on a house down the street from the Weathermans and putting them as our kids’ emergency contact at the local school I had already selected.

Not too long ago, we learned that God had closed the door on Charlotte. I began to wonder why He would have me meet these great people only to give us a “no” on them being a part of the life I had planned for us with them right down the road. I then remembered that Cindy had given me her copy of Chip and Joanna Gaines book, The Magnolia Story. I remembered there was a quote at the end that stood out to me…

“If I had planned my life, it never would have ended up like this. So maybe it’s kind of fun not to plan. Maybe it’s more fun just to see where life takes you. After all, we’re living proof that sometimes even the messiest stuff and the biggest mistakes can take you some place wonderful.”

What an amazing truth for me to read. Things have definitely not been the way I would have planned them. The last few years have been hard and incredibly messy but they have brought us to a place we never would have imagined being. Maybe God gave me Rick and Cindy so they could give me this book and I could read this quote. Maybe I needed them so I could be reminded to stop planning and just enjoy where I am. Maybe what we have just around the corner is something wonderful that we never would have planned. Maybe I would have missed it had it not been for a chance meeting with some kind strangers who graciously gave me a book that made me slow down and make the most of right where I am. 

“If you can’t find happiness in the ugliness, you’re not going to find it in the beauty, either.” ~ Joanna Gaines


Nothing Lasts Forever, Right?

One of the most difficult aspects of this journey since the beginning has been the likelihood that it will be a constant part of our lives for the rest of our lives. When Dr. Williams told me in January that there was a possibility I would one day be able to come off of the seizure medicine, I was beyond excited. Most days I feel fairly normal, but no matter how great a day may be, my alarm goes off at 8:00 am to remind me to take my medicine and remind me for that brief moment that all is not right. The mere thought of my morning medicine alarm and the side effects that go along with this daily dose being a thing of the past gave me hope.

I truly believed earlier this week that my EEG was going to come back clear. I clung to that belief and it (along with calls, texts, Facebook messages, and all of your prayers) was what helped me stay awake for over 30 hours straight in preparation for the test. I felt that this was going to be the time I would write a post explaining how my doctor was excited to call because he was able to share good news with me for once. We would put together a plan and in a few months I could delete my 8:00 am “Take Medicine” alarm once and for all.


Thursday afternoon while I was on my way home from work, I saw Dr. Williams’ number pop up on my phone. I took a deep breath and answered in the cheeriest voice I could muster. After exchanging pleasantries, he proceeded to tell me that there had been no change in my EEG from a few weeks after the seizure to the one I had Wednesday; to use his words, “they are almost identical”. This leads him to believe that if I were not mediciated, I would be having seizures on a regular basis and puts us in a good news/bad news situation

The good news is the seizure activity in my brain has not gotten worse. Whether it be the tumor, a form of epilepsy, or something else, it has not caused my brain to get worse in the last year and a half. It also means that my medication is working. Though there is seizure activity occurring in my brain, it is not showing itself in violent convulsions like the ones I had the night this all began in December of 2015.

The bad news is coming off of the medicine is not an option right now and looking more and more like it may never be. Dr. Williams said he would allow me to repeat the EEG in another year but would not suggest I continue to have additional test done if that one does not look any different than the first two. At that point the medicine would be a permanent fixture in my life with little reason for us to ever consider removing me from it. 

While we are so thankful for the good news we received, this latest bunch of bad has rocked us. The idea that this is not a season but something that will be part of our lives forever is an incredibly tough pill to swallow. It is made more challenging by the fact that there is nothing we can do to change our situation. No amount of healthy eating or exercise will ever get rid of the tumor. Since we are still not sure what is causing the seizure activity, we have no idea what steps (if any) there are we can take to stop it. All we can do is trust that the God who allowed all of this will use it in ways we can only imagine.

Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.

~Ephesians 3:20

Running Uphill

Every time I go for a run, I have time to think. I have time to think about how crazy the last few years have been. I have time to think about how much God has brought us through. I have time to think about what I hope the future holds for us. I have time to think about how thankful I am for the simple fact that I am able to run in spite of having a tumor in my brain. My run last weekend was no different.

Last Saturday, Adam and I got to run one of our favorite races. We like this race so much because it is incredibly unique and because it takes place at a location that is a part of Adam’s day to day life. The race is the Quarry Crusher Run which is held at Vulcan’s Norcross quarry where Adam is in charge of sales. The race is 3.7 miles and involves running down a 660 foot change in elevation to the bottom of the quarry then turning around and running back up.


During the race, I started thinking about how much the course and what I experienced on it resembled my life. The first half of the race was a piece of cake. As long as I could avoid falling down, the grade of the road helped to propel me to the bottom of the quarry. Then I reached the turn around and had to look up at everything I had just run down. My pace dropped drastically. The wind that had been at my back was now hitting me square in the face. The terrain that had just worked in my favor was now pushing me in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go. A 660 foot elevation change rocks when you are running down but is miserable on the way up.

I started up the hill with confidence I could make it to the top. I did the same race last year and knew I could do it again…but this year was a little different. The quarry was 60 feet deeper this year than last. The ground was wet and littered with soft areas that required extra care to navigate. My running app was not tracking my distance properly so I had no idea how much I had left to run. All I could see was a constant, 10% (or more) grade uphill that seemed like it would never end.

Eventually, it did. Eventually, I saw the finish line and crossed it. I realized as I was handed my newest finisher medal that this race is never going to get easier. Next year, the quarry will be deeper and steeper. The distance for the Crusher Run will be longer and will most likely never get shorter. Who knows, I may even be crazy enough to do the Double Crusher next year (take everything I described about the race above and do it twice).

This week brings another challenge that I am not looking forward to conquering. On Wednesday afternoon, I will have my first test since having the gamma knife procedure in February. This test is called an electroencephalogram, or EEG, and measures the electrical activity in my brain. I had this test done for the first time a couple weeks after the seizure and it showed seizure activity in the left frontal lobe of my brain. It confirmed to my neurologist that it would not be a good idea for me to be walking around on a day to day basis without anti-convulsive medication in my system.

The test itself is not that bad. I have a bunch of electrodes stuck to my head and then go through a handful of different activities while they measure my brainwaves. The preparation for the test, on the other hand, is miserable. The kind of EEG I have performed is called a sleep deprivation EEG and is just like it sounds…I have to be sleep deprived before the test. This is accomplished by me not sleeping for a minimum of 24 hours. Without the help of caffeine or other stimulants, I will have to stay awake all Tuesday night, go to work Wednesday morning, then go to the EEG that afternoon.

Our hope is the results of this EEG will show little or no abnormal activity in my brain and allow me to come off of my seizure medicine. This would be such a HUGE blessing to me and my family. Though the medicine I’m currently on is better than the others I’ve tried, none of them make me feel great.  I honestly feel like we are asking for the impossible. I feel like we are asking for the course to be flatter, shorter, and easier than it was before which seems like something that just can’t happen.

With all of that in mind, we are asking you to pray for what seems like a miracle. Please pray that my EEG would come back completely clear. Pray that my doctors would be amazed at the results. Pray that I would be able to stop taking my seizure medicine and remain seizure free indefinitely without it.

Every day I have an alarm go off on my phone at 8:00 am to remind me to take my medicine. If my kids are around they always scream “medicine time”. What a blessing it would be to our family if these little joys never had to say those words again.