Who coined that phrase??? It must have come from the bible somewhere. Was it when doubting Thomas had to touch the scars in Jesus's hands to believe he was looking at the risen Lord???? Probably so. There is so much in the Bible about the ways people believed in the unbelievable. One woman believed if she could just touch Jesus' robes, she would be healed from years of heavy bleeding. One centurion believed Jesus could heal his servant by just speaking the words. Jarius believed that Jesus could heal his daughter by laying his hand on her. And, if you know your bible, all three were healed, and Jarius' daughter was raised from the dead. The faithful, faithful people ......all believing in His words, his hands, even the clothes that he wore.
All healed. If only I could have such faith in a consistant, unwavering way.
After all is said and done, through this long and amazing journey, I still have moments where I want to SEE evidence of answered prayer. I still today, when my side has a dull ache or my right hip starts to hurt, wish for...long for something that I can look at to confirm what my faithfulness and the numbers are telling me: I am better...we are winning.....IT is retreating. But just like cancer, doubt is an infiltrating, invading shadow, lurking in places we cannot see, cannot put our finger on. I have often longed to be able to just touch His robe and know.
People who deal with people like me are very aware of our fears and doubts. People like myself who have dealt with cancer on a long-term basis have to fight to remain positive and hopeful and strong. We have to fight to keep from being jaded and cynical and resigned. "Cautiously optimistic" is the phrase we use when something seems to be working, even when the something has produced spectacular results. And even though I have seen my chart, my tumor marker graph with its dramatic drop over the last three months, even though I have seen other, more amazing things that this new drug is doing for people like me, some days are still a little hard....a little depressing. Because I can't see what is happening inside me...I can only feel what it feels like to have numb fingers and toes, skin like tissue paper, aching joints, non-specific abdominal twangs, unexplained stomach upset. I can only see that I have no hair, eyebrows or eyelashes, red and mottled hands and a constant runny nose.
So I try and remember what Jesus said to Thomas as Thomas put his hands where the nails were and touched His side where it had been pierced: "Stop doubting and believe" (John 20:27) Some one once told me that a great thing to ask God was for help with my unbelief.
Oh yes, that's it. That is the best way to sum up what I'm trying to say here. Even though I can't always see proof..even though I long some days for constant physical evidence...even though I struggle with my unbelief, God is standing by, waiting to help me with that as well as everything else He does for me...always.....every day.
Next week will be my last dose of Ixempra. That's a little scary for me, stopping the drug that seems to have my disease on the run. Three weeks after that, I will have my scans run again.
We will finally get to see more evidence of what we hold to be true. We expect the scans to be spectacular. We believe we won't believe what we will see. I look forward to those scans, that day, but I can't put too much stock in them...can't base my faith on those pictures. My stock and faith are with these words that I always needs to remember regardless of what I will see: "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." John 20:29
That Jesus, I tell ya, He always knows just what to say.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Plant some seeds.
Here is a little know fact: Very few people I know know about this blog site. The fact is, I first started "blogging" as a way to consolidate all my journaling and tell so many of my stories. I think I have given out this address to a handful of people...a sister-in-law, two good friends, the nursing staff at my oncologist's office and a new patient just last week. I really didn't intend for it to be widely read and certainly did not expect people to write me back. What this blog site is is really a field where I can just plant some seeds. I have all the faith in the world that my seeds will grow and just when someone needs a flower they will be directed to this field of mine.
I keep this field of seeds and flowers and hope and encouragement close to my heart. Sometimes I am reluctant to let others in on the harvest because I have nutured this garden of my world so carefully over the years. But I know that in order for me to really reap the harvest from the seeds I have sown, I have to allow others to join in when the crops bloom. I have to share.
The exciting part is...I never know who will end up on the receiving end of my harvest. I don't really know you...but I know you're out there. I see how many times people come to my site...I hear feedback from some. I know that I could not possibly expect to reap a harvest without sowing the seeds.....and so I write on. I write hoping that somewhere, someone will pick one of my fl0wers, take a deep breath, smell the sweetness of life, and feel that God is with them.
I write hoping that one of you who knows about this site will read one of my entries and think of someone who may need the flower of ecouragement or hope and direct them here. I write, mostly, because I feel it is the way God wants me to tell what great things He has done for me,
what great things He can do for everyone.
So my dear friends, I stand today in the middle of this field I have planted, arms open, feelings exposed, faith declared, and pray that you and others you tell will pick a flower or two. It is the reason I write, the reason I planted the seeds. May you pick a whole bouquet.
"Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly reaps sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously." 2 Cor 9:6
I keep this field of seeds and flowers and hope and encouragement close to my heart. Sometimes I am reluctant to let others in on the harvest because I have nutured this garden of my world so carefully over the years. But I know that in order for me to really reap the harvest from the seeds I have sown, I have to allow others to join in when the crops bloom. I have to share.
The exciting part is...I never know who will end up on the receiving end of my harvest. I don't really know you...but I know you're out there. I see how many times people come to my site...I hear feedback from some. I know that I could not possibly expect to reap a harvest without sowing the seeds.....and so I write on. I write hoping that somewhere, someone will pick one of my fl0wers, take a deep breath, smell the sweetness of life, and feel that God is with them.
I write hoping that one of you who knows about this site will read one of my entries and think of someone who may need the flower of ecouragement or hope and direct them here. I write, mostly, because I feel it is the way God wants me to tell what great things He has done for me,
what great things He can do for everyone.
So my dear friends, I stand today in the middle of this field I have planted, arms open, feelings exposed, faith declared, and pray that you and others you tell will pick a flower or two. It is the reason I write, the reason I planted the seeds. May you pick a whole bouquet.
"Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly reaps sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously." 2 Cor 9:6
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The Curtains
I have many analogies that I use to explain what it is like to be in a war against cancer. I try to use visualizations and life applications and scriptural references. My analogies have changed over the years with the ebb and flow of metastatic disease, but one analogy has remained constant. That would be my reference to the curtains.
Way back in the beginning, in 2001, I used the curtains to describe going through treatment. The curtains are velvet, they are heavy, and they are dark. They are like the curtains you had to try and walk through on stage in elementary school: huge and heavy and confusing. Rows and rows of them have been draped in front of me, and with each chemo treatment, with surgery, with transplant, with radiation, I would mentally pull a curtain back, tie it to the side, and move forward. The more curtains I pulled back and put behind me, the lighter the way became in front of me. There have been several times I have stood in the bright, warm light with what I thought were all the curtains pulled back. Their heaviness and darkness out of my way, out of my life. But, unfortunately, as I continue my walk forward, the curtains have found ways to return and my efforts to push them back go on.
I think without the curtain analogy, the whole experience, the whole battle with its ups and downs, loses and wins, would be too heavy to bear, too overwhelming for most....too dark. The curtains allow me to approach this disease in sections, knowing that as long as I am walking forward, I have the chance to pull a curtain back and head toward lighter and brighter days.
The curtains were very dark and heavy a few months back. Now they are like sheers, blowing with the breeze, making my walk easier.
Some people may think the curtains have been tools of denial. That's fine too. Though denial can be bad, it also can allow you to focus only on success, only on the future, only on the light that is breaking ahead of you. Don't think for one minute that I don't remember all those curtains behind me and try not to think about them suddenly fallings in front of me again. For all the faith I have, the curtains will always be hovering in the back of my mind. They represent every major step, every treatment course, every scan, every tumor marker, every side effect, every bout of sadness, disappointment, despondency that I have gone through. I have parted and pulled back hundreds of dark heavy curtains to find my way to the light and will continue to do so....as long as it takes...as many times as it takes.
Right now, I am in the light. I can breathe again.....the emotional stress, spiritual struggles and
exhausting angst are behind me...tied up in the heavy curtains I have just walked through over the last three months. I am pushing back curtains now that only have to do with side effects. Compared to other times, it is effortless. And even though I am aware of the curtains behind me and their possibility of being in front of me, I push that back, too. I push back this one last sheer curtain that frees me up, lets me walk forward and believe that I will be in the light for a long, long time.
Light for a lifetime; light everlasting.
"for you are a chosen people....a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light." 1 Peter 2:9
Way back in the beginning, in 2001, I used the curtains to describe going through treatment. The curtains are velvet, they are heavy, and they are dark. They are like the curtains you had to try and walk through on stage in elementary school: huge and heavy and confusing. Rows and rows of them have been draped in front of me, and with each chemo treatment, with surgery, with transplant, with radiation, I would mentally pull a curtain back, tie it to the side, and move forward. The more curtains I pulled back and put behind me, the lighter the way became in front of me. There have been several times I have stood in the bright, warm light with what I thought were all the curtains pulled back. Their heaviness and darkness out of my way, out of my life. But, unfortunately, as I continue my walk forward, the curtains have found ways to return and my efforts to push them back go on.
I think without the curtain analogy, the whole experience, the whole battle with its ups and downs, loses and wins, would be too heavy to bear, too overwhelming for most....too dark. The curtains allow me to approach this disease in sections, knowing that as long as I am walking forward, I have the chance to pull a curtain back and head toward lighter and brighter days.
The curtains were very dark and heavy a few months back. Now they are like sheers, blowing with the breeze, making my walk easier.
Some people may think the curtains have been tools of denial. That's fine too. Though denial can be bad, it also can allow you to focus only on success, only on the future, only on the light that is breaking ahead of you. Don't think for one minute that I don't remember all those curtains behind me and try not to think about them suddenly fallings in front of me again. For all the faith I have, the curtains will always be hovering in the back of my mind. They represent every major step, every treatment course, every scan, every tumor marker, every side effect, every bout of sadness, disappointment, despondency that I have gone through. I have parted and pulled back hundreds of dark heavy curtains to find my way to the light and will continue to do so....as long as it takes...as many times as it takes.
Right now, I am in the light. I can breathe again.....the emotional stress, spiritual struggles and
exhausting angst are behind me...tied up in the heavy curtains I have just walked through over the last three months. I am pushing back curtains now that only have to do with side effects. Compared to other times, it is effortless. And even though I am aware of the curtains behind me and their possibility of being in front of me, I push that back, too. I push back this one last sheer curtain that frees me up, lets me walk forward and believe that I will be in the light for a long, long time.
Light for a lifetime; light everlasting.
"for you are a chosen people....a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light." 1 Peter 2:9
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Everyone needs one
Everyone needs a friend like my good friend Jennifer. I met Jennifer in 1994 when we moved back to NC from Maryland. She lived in my neighborhood and we met in a women's bible study.
She had just lost her dad to liver cancer. Little did we know at the time how that disease would one day strike both of our lives again. Ten years later I had my recurrence and her husband was diagnosed with biliary duct liver cancer. She lived through his surgery and recovery, she is living with his survival percentage data and she lives with my battle every day. She is a remarkable woman, but in a very unique way.
You see, Jennifer is my one true "blonde" friend. When you hear a dumb blonde joke, it is likely to be similar to something she has done in her lifetime. She is tall and beautiful and floats on the surface of life where everything is rosy, every meal is delicious, every weekend a good time, every trip is the best. She rarely has a bad word to say about anything or anyone. She is the first to point out the positive, no matter how trivial or insignificant.
Jennifer was one of my caretakers during my stem-cell transplant. When it was her time to pull duty, she showed up with a fluffy robe, tea, and old movies. This was going to be "girl time".
What it ended up being was me at my sickest, her rushing me to Rex hospital and wondering if I was going to live to see the next day. She witnessed the awful side effects of massive doses of chemo which led me to need liquid codeine and made me throw up whenever I sat up. Through all of this, she took care of me with a Scarlette O'Hara-type of "oh fiddle-dee-dee" attitude that belied how serious the situation was. Once, when I had to get up to go to the bathroom, I warned her of the certainty of my throwing up when I lifted my head. This was not a problem.
In fact, when it did happened, she got me a washcloth and said, "I'm so jealous...you're going to be so skinny in your bathing suit this summer!" I still laugh about that....but it was her way of
keeping it light, keeping it bearable, and keeping me looking forward.
She still does that for me today. When times are bad, she is the one who finds things to say that buck me up and strengthen me. Her statements are rarely spiritual, instead she gets angry and determined and tells me that they will find a way to kick the latest progression in the ass. She squeals with delight when the news is good. This past Friday she could have broken glass when I told her about the latest tumor marker. Through all her sillyness, humor, and sometimes unrealistic positiveness, I know there is a vein in her of deep love and compassion and caring and seriousness. But like most of you, I have a lot of loving family, compassionate friends, caring medical staff, and the battle is serious enough already.
I hope each of you has a Jennifer. The friend that never notices how you look or what you have on, and she still will go anywhere and do anything with you. She is the one who invites you to a party for the fun of it as her "date" even though you may not have hair. She is the friend you would want to go to Vegas with, the friend who is always up for a glass of wine, the friend who takes you riding around in her convertible on a warm spring night playing Aretha Franklin on the CD player. She calls for no reason and calls to say she is kayaking in the calm waters of Smith Creek, drinking champagne and wishing I was there.
Everybody needs a Jennifer in their lives. She rounds things out and keeps things fun and helps me focus on life other than life with cancer. Everyone needs a Jennifer because in her own unique way, I know without question that she believes in me as much as anyone.
"Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." John 15:17
She had just lost her dad to liver cancer. Little did we know at the time how that disease would one day strike both of our lives again. Ten years later I had my recurrence and her husband was diagnosed with biliary duct liver cancer. She lived through his surgery and recovery, she is living with his survival percentage data and she lives with my battle every day. She is a remarkable woman, but in a very unique way.
You see, Jennifer is my one true "blonde" friend. When you hear a dumb blonde joke, it is likely to be similar to something she has done in her lifetime. She is tall and beautiful and floats on the surface of life where everything is rosy, every meal is delicious, every weekend a good time, every trip is the best. She rarely has a bad word to say about anything or anyone. She is the first to point out the positive, no matter how trivial or insignificant.
Jennifer was one of my caretakers during my stem-cell transplant. When it was her time to pull duty, she showed up with a fluffy robe, tea, and old movies. This was going to be "girl time".
What it ended up being was me at my sickest, her rushing me to Rex hospital and wondering if I was going to live to see the next day. She witnessed the awful side effects of massive doses of chemo which led me to need liquid codeine and made me throw up whenever I sat up. Through all of this, she took care of me with a Scarlette O'Hara-type of "oh fiddle-dee-dee" attitude that belied how serious the situation was. Once, when I had to get up to go to the bathroom, I warned her of the certainty of my throwing up when I lifted my head. This was not a problem.
In fact, when it did happened, she got me a washcloth and said, "I'm so jealous...you're going to be so skinny in your bathing suit this summer!" I still laugh about that....but it was her way of
keeping it light, keeping it bearable, and keeping me looking forward.
She still does that for me today. When times are bad, she is the one who finds things to say that buck me up and strengthen me. Her statements are rarely spiritual, instead she gets angry and determined and tells me that they will find a way to kick the latest progression in the ass. She squeals with delight when the news is good. This past Friday she could have broken glass when I told her about the latest tumor marker. Through all her sillyness, humor, and sometimes unrealistic positiveness, I know there is a vein in her of deep love and compassion and caring and seriousness. But like most of you, I have a lot of loving family, compassionate friends, caring medical staff, and the battle is serious enough already.
I hope each of you has a Jennifer. The friend that never notices how you look or what you have on, and she still will go anywhere and do anything with you. She is the one who invites you to a party for the fun of it as her "date" even though you may not have hair. She is the friend you would want to go to Vegas with, the friend who is always up for a glass of wine, the friend who takes you riding around in her convertible on a warm spring night playing Aretha Franklin on the CD player. She calls for no reason and calls to say she is kayaking in the calm waters of Smith Creek, drinking champagne and wishing I was there.
Everybody needs a Jennifer in their lives. She rounds things out and keeps things fun and helps me focus on life other than life with cancer. Everyone needs a Jennifer because in her own unique way, I know without question that she believes in me as much as anyone.
"Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." John 15:17
Monday, February 18, 2008
Mercy
Mercy. How do you define that word. There are quite a few meanings of the word in the dictionary. Most of them have to do with compassion, pity, and pardon. We say "Lord have mercy on me." but we are asking for reprieve or relief from something. I have always thought that the true meaning of mercy was something else, something more.
After Janet called me Friday with the incredibly good news about my tumor marker, there were so many emotions I dealt with while trying to digest my good fortune. She had been so excited for me...we had just about been yelling at each other through the phone....I felt such gratitude and love for her. It was an another amazing phone call she made to me. Then to tell my husband and call everyone else who waits with me anxiously every 30 days for the number, well, let's just say it was a great mix of joy, relief, praise, tears, and happiness. As I lay in bed that night, turning the marker number over and over in my head, there was also that underlying feeling of "how did this happen to me." How can I be so fortunate, so blessed to have such a turn-around in the past 3 months?? The constant little feeling that has been this question has stayed with me until this morning.
This morning, I looked up the word mercy on Dictionary.com For some reason, I knew this was the one word that could sum up what I was feeling. Mercy was the word I could use to let all of you know what I felt when I got that phone call. I found the definition for mercy that confirmed what I felt, what I knew to be true. It was the fifth definition down:
"something that gives evidence of divine favor." Bingo. I was seeing evidence. It is so humbling. I have been covered with mercy.
My beloved, what we have here is mercy. I don't know why I am so blessed, but I am. The Lord has shown mercy to us all.
"In His great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope....." 1 Peter 1:3
After Janet called me Friday with the incredibly good news about my tumor marker, there were so many emotions I dealt with while trying to digest my good fortune. She had been so excited for me...we had just about been yelling at each other through the phone....I felt such gratitude and love for her. It was an another amazing phone call she made to me. Then to tell my husband and call everyone else who waits with me anxiously every 30 days for the number, well, let's just say it was a great mix of joy, relief, praise, tears, and happiness. As I lay in bed that night, turning the marker number over and over in my head, there was also that underlying feeling of "how did this happen to me." How can I be so fortunate, so blessed to have such a turn-around in the past 3 months?? The constant little feeling that has been this question has stayed with me until this morning.
This morning, I looked up the word mercy on Dictionary.com For some reason, I knew this was the one word that could sum up what I was feeling. Mercy was the word I could use to let all of you know what I felt when I got that phone call. I found the definition for mercy that confirmed what I felt, what I knew to be true. It was the fifth definition down:
"something that gives evidence of divine favor." Bingo. I was seeing evidence. It is so humbling. I have been covered with mercy.
My beloved, what we have here is mercy. I don't know why I am so blessed, but I am. The Lord has shown mercy to us all.
"In His great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope....." 1 Peter 1:3
The Language
There is a certain "language" that comes with every type of industry, profession, hobby, etc.
We who show our dogs have our own language. The word bitch has an entirely different meaning. My young daughter was horrified to find out that while we had always been referring to female dogs, her friend had considered it a BAD word. We speak about confimation, points,
winners, reserves and many other things that "outsiders" cannot understand.
The same goes for my profession. The lumber industry is filled with its own language. I talk in terms of board feet, pulled-to-length, and #2 or C & better grades. It is a language that is learned with time and training and experience.
The world of cancer treatment also has its own language. Through time and experience, I have come to know words and phrases that demand explanation to someone who has not been a part of the world. Some terms and words are easier to figure out than others. Words and acronyms like blood-count, intraveneous, stage, scan, CT, PET, side-effects. There are new words like nadirs, neutrophils, aromatose-inhibitor,....and phrases like protein-excreting, estrogen-positive and metatstatic disease.
Then there are the "catch" phrases like:
This is just a bump in the road of your life.
Cancer can be a gift.
You'll feel a lot worse before we can make you better.
It's only hair. It will grow back.
You're going to feel a little "pinch" here.
And as the news goes from bad to worse:
We'll address that issue when we need to.
There is no cure now, only treatment of a chronic disease.
We need to get some staging scans to see where we are.
Your disease has progressed.
I don't expect to hit any home runs with this treatment
This will probably be effective for about 3-6 months.
That's just what cancer cells do...they figure out how to get around the chemo treatment
You know, it never really goes away.
Through time and experience, I find myself speaking with the language of cancer treatment with relative ease and frequency. I am bi-lingual. I have, for the last four years since recurrence, been constantly speaking about my tumor marker. My close friends and family know what that phrase is all about. There are only a few people who really understand its significance. Tumor marker up = bad. Tumor marker down = good. My tumor marker, or measure of the protein that cancer cells are excreting in my bloodstream, has always been a reliable indicator to what is going on in my body. You have read earlier blogs about this number. In November the number was frighteningly high......ominously high.
Now I have just received news on Friday that my marker is 126. A number I haven't seen since September of 2005...2 years and five months ago. My language has suddenly begun to change.
I am now thinking of going to Texas in July. I have a puppy I need to show for someone this coming fall. The tumor marker of 126 gives me a new language about the future. The language of hope, blessings and miracles is being learned and the people who surround me are becomng fluent in it. While it has been said that we have no home runs to hit, here I am, standing on third base with home plate only 90 feet away. The stands are full, the crowd is cheering, God is smiling, and my medical team is at bat. The great game continues.
So if you're finding yourself having to learn the new language of cancer treatment, my advice to you is to learn it well, but also to make up your own. Use the language of hope, the language of determination and perseverence. Oh, and don't forget that age old language...the most powerful
Words of all. There in the Bible you will find all the words and phrases you could ever possibly need to know.
"For God's words are life unto those that find them and health to all their flesh." Proverbs 4:22
We who show our dogs have our own language. The word bitch has an entirely different meaning. My young daughter was horrified to find out that while we had always been referring to female dogs, her friend had considered it a BAD word. We speak about confimation, points,
winners, reserves and many other things that "outsiders" cannot understand.
The same goes for my profession. The lumber industry is filled with its own language. I talk in terms of board feet, pulled-to-length, and #2 or C & better grades. It is a language that is learned with time and training and experience.
The world of cancer treatment also has its own language. Through time and experience, I have come to know words and phrases that demand explanation to someone who has not been a part of the world. Some terms and words are easier to figure out than others. Words and acronyms like blood-count, intraveneous, stage, scan, CT, PET, side-effects. There are new words like nadirs, neutrophils, aromatose-inhibitor,....and phrases like protein-excreting, estrogen-positive and metatstatic disease.
Then there are the "catch" phrases like:
This is just a bump in the road of your life.
Cancer can be a gift.
You'll feel a lot worse before we can make you better.
It's only hair. It will grow back.
You're going to feel a little "pinch" here.
And as the news goes from bad to worse:
We'll address that issue when we need to.
There is no cure now, only treatment of a chronic disease.
We need to get some staging scans to see where we are.
Your disease has progressed.
I don't expect to hit any home runs with this treatment
This will probably be effective for about 3-6 months.
That's just what cancer cells do...they figure out how to get around the chemo treatment
You know, it never really goes away.
Through time and experience, I find myself speaking with the language of cancer treatment with relative ease and frequency. I am bi-lingual. I have, for the last four years since recurrence, been constantly speaking about my tumor marker. My close friends and family know what that phrase is all about. There are only a few people who really understand its significance. Tumor marker up = bad. Tumor marker down = good. My tumor marker, or measure of the protein that cancer cells are excreting in my bloodstream, has always been a reliable indicator to what is going on in my body. You have read earlier blogs about this number. In November the number was frighteningly high......ominously high.
Now I have just received news on Friday that my marker is 126. A number I haven't seen since September of 2005...2 years and five months ago. My language has suddenly begun to change.
I am now thinking of going to Texas in July. I have a puppy I need to show for someone this coming fall. The tumor marker of 126 gives me a new language about the future. The language of hope, blessings and miracles is being learned and the people who surround me are becomng fluent in it. While it has been said that we have no home runs to hit, here I am, standing on third base with home plate only 90 feet away. The stands are full, the crowd is cheering, God is smiling, and my medical team is at bat. The great game continues.
So if you're finding yourself having to learn the new language of cancer treatment, my advice to you is to learn it well, but also to make up your own. Use the language of hope, the language of determination and perseverence. Oh, and don't forget that age old language...the most powerful
Words of all. There in the Bible you will find all the words and phrases you could ever possibly need to know.
"For God's words are life unto those that find them and health to all their flesh." Proverbs 4:22
Friday, February 15, 2008
This is the Year
She doesn't know it, but Maha did something for me yesterday that she has no idea had such tremendous spiritual weight and meaning. As she was leaving the exam room, she turned to me and fixed her beautiful eyes on mine and said a four word phrase that could have knocked me over. This phrase would have sounded like an encouraging phrase to anyone else, but to me it was a spiritual confirmation. It was a phrase that God had given her to tell me to let me know how divine and true the phrase was. I was completely amazed and stunned. She has no idea
how significant the her last words to me yesterday were.
The phrase she said to me was a phrase that my family prayed and claimed as a family around the dinner table just this past December 16th. My two brothers and I, our spouses and children all bowed our heads and said grace and agreed on the phrase. We were claiming the words of Jesus in Matthew 18:19 "...if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven."
We had decided as a family to adopt the phrase and believe and agree on the phrase. We have repeated the phrase many time when good things have happen to us all since that dinner. So when Maha turned to me and said it, it was as loud as thunder.
What is the phrase my family claimed??? "2008 is the year." We are standing on our faith and knowledge of God's goodness and mercy and His promise in Matthew 18:19. We have agreed that 2008 is the year. 2008 is the year of great blessings, miracles, and abundant life for our family. 2008 is THE YEAR it all happens.
When Maha said the same words, we had just been discussing the progress, the advances, the successes we have had and are having when it comes to my battle with cancer. She could have meant that she thought 2008 is the year of the great breakthrough, the big C for cure or the medical advancement that becomes my home run instead of just base hits. But I know what God meant when she said it. Even though she and I part ways in the days of Abraham when it comes to our religions, God meant for her to say that exact phrase to me as if to say,"You see, Kathy. Here is another one of my children who agrees with your claim. Here is divine confirmation of your hopes and prayers and beliefs from someone who you would not have ever thought of. She agrees...she believes."
Maybe Maha was talking about medical advancements. Maybe.....but maybe not. I think even though a third person in the room (and there was one) may have thought that's what she was talking about, her eyes told me the truth. She said the phrase because she agrees, she believes.....2008 is the year. It gives me such strength, such hope and such proof that God is always with us and never hesitates to make me aware of His presence. In my first paragraph I said she had no idea how significant those words were. In retrospect...after writing this all down...I take that back. She knew.
how significant the her last words to me yesterday were.
The phrase she said to me was a phrase that my family prayed and claimed as a family around the dinner table just this past December 16th. My two brothers and I, our spouses and children all bowed our heads and said grace and agreed on the phrase. We were claiming the words of Jesus in Matthew 18:19 "...if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven."
We had decided as a family to adopt the phrase and believe and agree on the phrase. We have repeated the phrase many time when good things have happen to us all since that dinner. So when Maha turned to me and said it, it was as loud as thunder.
What is the phrase my family claimed??? "2008 is the year." We are standing on our faith and knowledge of God's goodness and mercy and His promise in Matthew 18:19. We have agreed that 2008 is the year. 2008 is the year of great blessings, miracles, and abundant life for our family. 2008 is THE YEAR it all happens.
When Maha said the same words, we had just been discussing the progress, the advances, the successes we have had and are having when it comes to my battle with cancer. She could have meant that she thought 2008 is the year of the great breakthrough, the big C for cure or the medical advancement that becomes my home run instead of just base hits. But I know what God meant when she said it. Even though she and I part ways in the days of Abraham when it comes to our religions, God meant for her to say that exact phrase to me as if to say,"You see, Kathy. Here is another one of my children who agrees with your claim. Here is divine confirmation of your hopes and prayers and beliefs from someone who you would not have ever thought of. She agrees...she believes."
Maybe Maha was talking about medical advancements. Maybe.....but maybe not. I think even though a third person in the room (and there was one) may have thought that's what she was talking about, her eyes told me the truth. She said the phrase because she agrees, she believes.....2008 is the year. It gives me such strength, such hope and such proof that God is always with us and never hesitates to make me aware of His presence. In my first paragraph I said she had no idea how significant those words were. In retrospect...after writing this all down...I take that back. She knew.
This is what you get
The first time I saw her, she was having her blood drawn, having her hand held, holding back the tears. I knew her. Not her name, but how she felt, how her life had just been turned upside down. I knew her look of fear and disbelief. I knew she was in for a rough ride.
I wrote "After the Bad News", my last post, for people just like her. I had kept that written journal entry for years, sending it out once in an e-mail, not posting it here because it was so long. The day after I saw her, I started recording it in this blog. I knew she might need to read it. I knew she would have lots of people trying to say the right things to her, but not really knowing if they were...not really knowing what it is like.
I also know that for the next six months of her life, she will be constantly thinking about the enemy. The disease that has totally uprooted her life and shaken her to the core will be her constant, unwanted companion. She has some dark days ahead. She will lose her hair, she will lose some of her health, she will lose at least one breast. She will lose her appetite, she will lose the trust she took for granted that she had in her body, in the way her life was going. She will lose that feeling of "that only happens to other people."
So I knew that when I saw her come into the chemo room yesterday with her loved ones around her, that even though she had no idea of who I was, I had to let her know that I already knew her. So I pushed my little IV pole over there and sat down to chat. I know her way to well, and I have many things to tell her if she wants to hear them. I gave her this blog address, hoping she would find comfort and kinship and blessings. I hope she finds among all of what she is facing, not what she can lose with a cancer diagnosis, but what she can get when you get the diagnosis.
What you get is:
Knowing what you friends and family are made of
A true appreciation of time, precious time.
A tangible and true meaning for the word HOPE
A deeper understanding of the word LOVE
The chance to be cared for by some of the most intelligent, compassionate and caring people put on the planet.
And, if you let Him, a chance for God to be you strength, salvation, healer and Father.
What I have gotten are all the things and so much more. People will try to comfort her and cure her. God is there for the asking to heal her. What you get is life brought into focus. Clarity and appreciation......gratitude and understanding. For all the physical manifestations of cancer, there are so many spiritual lessons to be gained. She can have them all if she just seeks them out.
Every week if not every day, I get something from this whole experience. This past week I got to show another dog at Westminster Kennel Club. It is a tough thing to do. It is crowded, it is expensive, it is hard on your dog (not much grass in NYC), it is exhausting for a healthy person of any age. But it is exciting, it is a priviledge, and it is something I would never had done if I did not understand how precious, how important an experience like that is in my life. It would have been way easier to decide that I was in the middle of a chemo treatment and I might not feel well, or that I did not want to show in a wig, or drive 10 hours, or spend the money or...well whatever. Instead, I asked for a little longer break before my next treatment, had my wig styled, packed every pill I could think of that I might need and went. Because you never know.....whether you are fighting the cancer battle or not......you never know when you may get the opportunity for something like that again.
So what you get, my dear new soldier in the battle, what you get from all this is the chance to see snow falling in Times Square, eating at great restaurants with your handsome husband, being at the most exciting and prestigious dog show in the world, and coming back with a shiny medallion, a big beautiful ribbon, and so many pictures and memories. This time, after all this time, I got one of the times of my life........and I believe you will find your focus and have many times of your life, too.
Don't think about what you've lost or you're going to lose...look for all the things you will gain. If you can do this....you will be just fine.
"the thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10
I wrote "After the Bad News", my last post, for people just like her. I had kept that written journal entry for years, sending it out once in an e-mail, not posting it here because it was so long. The day after I saw her, I started recording it in this blog. I knew she might need to read it. I knew she would have lots of people trying to say the right things to her, but not really knowing if they were...not really knowing what it is like.
I also know that for the next six months of her life, she will be constantly thinking about the enemy. The disease that has totally uprooted her life and shaken her to the core will be her constant, unwanted companion. She has some dark days ahead. She will lose her hair, she will lose some of her health, she will lose at least one breast. She will lose her appetite, she will lose the trust she took for granted that she had in her body, in the way her life was going. She will lose that feeling of "that only happens to other people."
So I knew that when I saw her come into the chemo room yesterday with her loved ones around her, that even though she had no idea of who I was, I had to let her know that I already knew her. So I pushed my little IV pole over there and sat down to chat. I know her way to well, and I have many things to tell her if she wants to hear them. I gave her this blog address, hoping she would find comfort and kinship and blessings. I hope she finds among all of what she is facing, not what she can lose with a cancer diagnosis, but what she can get when you get the diagnosis.
What you get is:
Knowing what you friends and family are made of
A true appreciation of time, precious time.
A tangible and true meaning for the word HOPE
A deeper understanding of the word LOVE
The chance to be cared for by some of the most intelligent, compassionate and caring people put on the planet.
And, if you let Him, a chance for God to be you strength, salvation, healer and Father.
What I have gotten are all the things and so much more. People will try to comfort her and cure her. God is there for the asking to heal her. What you get is life brought into focus. Clarity and appreciation......gratitude and understanding. For all the physical manifestations of cancer, there are so many spiritual lessons to be gained. She can have them all if she just seeks them out.
Every week if not every day, I get something from this whole experience. This past week I got to show another dog at Westminster Kennel Club. It is a tough thing to do. It is crowded, it is expensive, it is hard on your dog (not much grass in NYC), it is exhausting for a healthy person of any age. But it is exciting, it is a priviledge, and it is something I would never had done if I did not understand how precious, how important an experience like that is in my life. It would have been way easier to decide that I was in the middle of a chemo treatment and I might not feel well, or that I did not want to show in a wig, or drive 10 hours, or spend the money or...well whatever. Instead, I asked for a little longer break before my next treatment, had my wig styled, packed every pill I could think of that I might need and went. Because you never know.....whether you are fighting the cancer battle or not......you never know when you may get the opportunity for something like that again.
So what you get, my dear new soldier in the battle, what you get from all this is the chance to see snow falling in Times Square, eating at great restaurants with your handsome husband, being at the most exciting and prestigious dog show in the world, and coming back with a shiny medallion, a big beautiful ribbon, and so many pictures and memories. This time, after all this time, I got one of the times of my life........and I believe you will find your focus and have many times of your life, too.
Don't think about what you've lost or you're going to lose...look for all the things you will gain. If you can do this....you will be just fine.
"the thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
After the bad news
So, my friend, you've just been told possibly the worst news of your life. You must all of a sudden do battle with a terrible and relentless enemy.You are probably paralized by fear, dazed and confused...in disbelief. You have suddenly been thrust into a whole new world that isn't pretty and may shorten your life on earth.
What will you do? How will you get through??Who will help you? There are a million questions to be answered. While I do not know that your answers will be, I can tell you some of the ways I have gotten through and am still getting through it all. Not just barely getting through, mind you, but really LIVING through these terrible physical circumstances.
First, I really mean it when I say you have to do battle with the enemy that is cancer. Cancer does not belong in your body. I believe it is not of God, but a product of the original sin that brought imperfections into what He created to be a perfect machine. Cells have gone wild, mutated, multiplied, and now they are invading parts of you where they have no business being. Your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit! You should be angry at the fact that this disease has defiled your temple! There are so many ways to fight this invader:
Work with your medical team, find out what they have planned and how you can be an active participant. Clean your house, put food in the freezer, buy comfy clothes to be a bum in, find all those old books you've been wanting to read, and most of all (hardest for some) tell people who you know will be a positive influence in your fight. People who will pray for you, check up on you, cook for you, walk your dog, and take your trash can out to the street. And most importantly my friend, God will be right there with you, as He always has throughout your life. Now is the time to cry out to Him! I found that during the absolute worst part of my treatment, when I was having a stem cell transplant, that He was so close to me. I was not sure if I would live another day, but I was not concerned because His presence was all around me, bringing great comfort. I would simply turn my weak and weary head and He was right there, every time.
Even though you have been betrayed by the physical part of who you are, you still have your mind and your spirit. These are parts of you that can be kept healthy and even improved upon in the days and months ahead. Your mental demons will be hard to ignore. Satan uses denial and doubt in big way, so you'll have to push those constant negative minions to the back of your mind. Ask God to take them from you, laugh at them, stand on all the promises God has made to you, pray over and through them. Make it a habit to also push back the mantra of "oh no, I have cancer" and you will be able to one day wake up and go about your business without that being the first thought that comes into your head.
Of course, I am certain that your spiritual health should be your greatest source of strength, hope, mercy, respite, relief, and release. Going to God everyday and giving Him your cares, worries, pain, fears, distress, disappointments and heartaches can free you up from all your complaints to you can concentrate on the two aspects of who you are that are still healthy......YOUR mind; YOUR spirit. And in these apsects, the Great Physician is waiting to hear from you at any time for any reason.
So my sister or brother in the fight, now we have to wake up every day and declare these three things:
I WILL
I CAN
I MUST
I WILL give thanks to God for the fact that I have another day to turn this cancer over to Him. Now is the time for God to carry you through the storm.
I CAN.....do you know that the word CANCER dissected as the letters stand only has one word within it??? That word is CAN. Such a positive word in the midst of such a scarey one. Declare that you CAN do battle today. You CAN fight today...even if it is just to take a pill or eat some toast or walk around the block. You Can fight on this day that God has given you.
Lastly, say I MUST. I MUST make the most of the time I have been given. No one knows when their last day or moment will be. You don't know how many sunsets you have left to see and neither do I. Had I listened to the data and percentages, I should not have lived past 2006. Only God has our days numbered for us, so we MUST make the most of it, regardless of our circumstances. We owe it to those who love us, to ourselves and to our Lord to not waste the day before us. Make it count, make a phone call, say "I love you", mail a card for no reason, smile, laugh, cry, and pray. Most of all, PAY ATTENTION, my friend. Regardless of the bad news, life is happening all around you. Get into the middle of it every day. No matter what you've been told or how you feel, you're still in this beautiful game. Live life, wake up and say:
I WILL
I CAN
I MUST!
And take heart......you are NOT alone, no matter how desolate you feel. Remember the most encouraging words of all come from the One who made you. Find a scripture to lift you up and keep you going. Here is mine:
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze." Isaiah 43:2
What will you do? How will you get through??Who will help you? There are a million questions to be answered. While I do not know that your answers will be, I can tell you some of the ways I have gotten through and am still getting through it all. Not just barely getting through, mind you, but really LIVING through these terrible physical circumstances.
First, I really mean it when I say you have to do battle with the enemy that is cancer. Cancer does not belong in your body. I believe it is not of God, but a product of the original sin that brought imperfections into what He created to be a perfect machine. Cells have gone wild, mutated, multiplied, and now they are invading parts of you where they have no business being. Your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit! You should be angry at the fact that this disease has defiled your temple! There are so many ways to fight this invader:
Work with your medical team, find out what they have planned and how you can be an active participant. Clean your house, put food in the freezer, buy comfy clothes to be a bum in, find all those old books you've been wanting to read, and most of all (hardest for some) tell people who you know will be a positive influence in your fight. People who will pray for you, check up on you, cook for you, walk your dog, and take your trash can out to the street. And most importantly my friend, God will be right there with you, as He always has throughout your life. Now is the time to cry out to Him! I found that during the absolute worst part of my treatment, when I was having a stem cell transplant, that He was so close to me. I was not sure if I would live another day, but I was not concerned because His presence was all around me, bringing great comfort. I would simply turn my weak and weary head and He was right there, every time.
Even though you have been betrayed by the physical part of who you are, you still have your mind and your spirit. These are parts of you that can be kept healthy and even improved upon in the days and months ahead. Your mental demons will be hard to ignore. Satan uses denial and doubt in big way, so you'll have to push those constant negative minions to the back of your mind. Ask God to take them from you, laugh at them, stand on all the promises God has made to you, pray over and through them. Make it a habit to also push back the mantra of "oh no, I have cancer" and you will be able to one day wake up and go about your business without that being the first thought that comes into your head.
Of course, I am certain that your spiritual health should be your greatest source of strength, hope, mercy, respite, relief, and release. Going to God everyday and giving Him your cares, worries, pain, fears, distress, disappointments and heartaches can free you up from all your complaints to you can concentrate on the two aspects of who you are that are still healthy......YOUR mind; YOUR spirit. And in these apsects, the Great Physician is waiting to hear from you at any time for any reason.
So my sister or brother in the fight, now we have to wake up every day and declare these three things:
I WILL
I CAN
I MUST
I WILL give thanks to God for the fact that I have another day to turn this cancer over to Him. Now is the time for God to carry you through the storm.
I CAN.....do you know that the word CANCER dissected as the letters stand only has one word within it??? That word is CAN. Such a positive word in the midst of such a scarey one. Declare that you CAN do battle today. You CAN fight today...even if it is just to take a pill or eat some toast or walk around the block. You Can fight on this day that God has given you.
Lastly, say I MUST. I MUST make the most of the time I have been given. No one knows when their last day or moment will be. You don't know how many sunsets you have left to see and neither do I. Had I listened to the data and percentages, I should not have lived past 2006. Only God has our days numbered for us, so we MUST make the most of it, regardless of our circumstances. We owe it to those who love us, to ourselves and to our Lord to not waste the day before us. Make it count, make a phone call, say "I love you", mail a card for no reason, smile, laugh, cry, and pray. Most of all, PAY ATTENTION, my friend. Regardless of the bad news, life is happening all around you. Get into the middle of it every day. No matter what you've been told or how you feel, you're still in this beautiful game. Live life, wake up and say:
I WILL
I CAN
I MUST!
And take heart......you are NOT alone, no matter how desolate you feel. Remember the most encouraging words of all come from the One who made you. Find a scripture to lift you up and keep you going. Here is mine:
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze." Isaiah 43:2
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Girls, I know your Secret
I know you. You may not know this, but I do. We're not talking about just recognition here....I mean I really KNOW you.
You who call me back and know you are going to have to find a near-impossible vein to stick and blood to draw.
You, who walk into an exam room with a thermometer and blood pressure cuff and smile and ask about how I am doing.
You, who stroll in after the Med Techs with a stethascope around your neck, files in your arms, professional game face on, and treatments to discuss.
You, who greet me at my chair, puncture my skin and fill me with protocol, bustling back and forth to answer beeping machines and imploring patients.
You think I don't know what's going on behind the practiced words, the game-face smiles,
the professional language, the subtle hand-patting? You think I haven't figured you all out who stand behind the glass window and cover yourselves with white coats or colorful scrubs or classy clothes?
I know your secret, I have you pegged. I know you. I know that behind your professionalism,
behind the face that belies the things you see and do and know about me, you are harboring something. But you can't fool me....not after seven years. I know your secret because I know your heart. I know that you love me!
There, I've said it! Even though we may never exchange those exact words with one another,
I know it is there. Just by the very nature of what you do, the very ability you have to face your patients and their awful disease every day. Your dedication to helping me and others like me to live another day, week, month....years is incredible.
I know you love me because I know that no matter how a person acts, looks, talks, smells, behaves....not matter what...you will do your best to treat them with respect, dignity, compassion, gentleness, and kindness, and I am one of those people. You love me because you love your fellow humans enough to dedicate your lives to making our lives liveable during a time of great crisis, anxiety and pain.
So don't think I don't know...that I don't notice all you do....all you are....all the love you have in your heart for people like me. I feel it in some subtle way every time I walk through the front doors of the office on Asheville Avenue.
I won't tell anyone, but I just wanted you to know you haven't fooled me, no sir. Even more important than that, you haven't fooled someone else who once said something like this:
"I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40
Jesus knows your secret, too.
You who call me back and know you are going to have to find a near-impossible vein to stick and blood to draw.
You, who walk into an exam room with a thermometer and blood pressure cuff and smile and ask about how I am doing.
You, who stroll in after the Med Techs with a stethascope around your neck, files in your arms, professional game face on, and treatments to discuss.
You, who greet me at my chair, puncture my skin and fill me with protocol, bustling back and forth to answer beeping machines and imploring patients.
You think I don't know what's going on behind the practiced words, the game-face smiles,
the professional language, the subtle hand-patting? You think I haven't figured you all out who stand behind the glass window and cover yourselves with white coats or colorful scrubs or classy clothes?
I know your secret, I have you pegged. I know you. I know that behind your professionalism,
behind the face that belies the things you see and do and know about me, you are harboring something. But you can't fool me....not after seven years. I know your secret because I know your heart. I know that you love me!
There, I've said it! Even though we may never exchange those exact words with one another,
I know it is there. Just by the very nature of what you do, the very ability you have to face your patients and their awful disease every day. Your dedication to helping me and others like me to live another day, week, month....years is incredible.
I know you love me because I know that no matter how a person acts, looks, talks, smells, behaves....not matter what...you will do your best to treat them with respect, dignity, compassion, gentleness, and kindness, and I am one of those people. You love me because you love your fellow humans enough to dedicate your lives to making our lives liveable during a time of great crisis, anxiety and pain.
So don't think I don't know...that I don't notice all you do....all you are....all the love you have in your heart for people like me. I feel it in some subtle way every time I walk through the front doors of the office on Asheville Avenue.
I won't tell anyone, but I just wanted you to know you haven't fooled me, no sir. Even more important than that, you haven't fooled someone else who once said something like this:
"I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40
Jesus knows your secret, too.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Battle Weary
Battle weary. Sometimes I just get that way. When there is not a break from the pain, the exhaustion, the anxiety, the feeling that I will never see a day again when I feel normal...there is always something.
My chemo friend Sue just happened to be getting bloodwork done yesterday while I was getting IV Zometa for my bones. She and I started our real hard fight together. the fight when the news had been terrible. The Stage IV fight. The fight where you stop looking too far out in the future and do battle day by day and week by week. We have seen each other go through a barrage of treatments, hairdos, hair colors, weight fluxuation and, of course battle fatigue.
She has been on a break from chemo for four months, but yesterday she took the time to comiserate with me about how hard the battle gets. Pain is always the issue. We are constantly looking for ways to defeat it. Not so much pain from the disease but pain from what years of chemo has done to our bodies. Sleep is our second issue. Who knows what nights you will end up not sleeping for who knows what reason and how that takes you down for the following day....a day you don't want to waste but do anyway because it's too hard to get out of bed. Then there is the constant sticks, pokes, shots, withdrawals, labs, and the ever-looming scans.
Sue and I have woven these components of cancer treatment into the fabric of our everyday lives. We live by a different calendar than people who do not fight the disease. Our time is divided into sections of 1 week, 10 days, 3 weeks, or 30 days. We have different measures for our successes and milestones of our lives. We both are a pair of extroverted, verbally expressive soldiers who never forget what is lurking somewhere back behind us in the shadows. To an outsider, we may look like two queens of denial, but we are really street-wise gang members who are living large but always mindful that a drive-by shooting may be just around the corner.
Sometimes all of it just wears me out. I was pretty fed up with the whole thing yesterday. Janet probably picked up on it when she saw me the day before. The inside of my mouth was sloughing away, the skin on my hands is like tissue paper, and the exhaustion in my voice had to be detectable. Despite all of our great, great victories over the past month, I can never forget that, as in any war, the battle takes a toll. This isn't sugar water they're putting in my veins. Really, I do not know the last time I was off chemo.....perhaps over two years??? Janet and Maha are giving me an extra six days before my next round. It feels like freedom.
But, as always, I will take whatever it takes. I have never said "no more". I will still be loud and happy and positive and hopefully, bring something meaningful to everybody I see during this journey. When I get so exhausted physically, I also rest in the comfort that God is always there to "cover (me) with his feathers, and under His wings (I) will find refuge;" Ps.91:4
Throughout the whole book of Psalms, God is constantly providing rest, refuge and protection for the battle weary David. He still does it today to all that ask it of him.
So when I feel weary. When the battle seems to overwhelm me....I only have to do one thing.
That thing is to remember the words of the greatest Comforter: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28
The footnote to all this? The denial queens have been comiserating over the battle coming up on four years this month. Not bad for a couple of crazy gals.
My chemo friend Sue just happened to be getting bloodwork done yesterday while I was getting IV Zometa for my bones. She and I started our real hard fight together. the fight when the news had been terrible. The Stage IV fight. The fight where you stop looking too far out in the future and do battle day by day and week by week. We have seen each other go through a barrage of treatments, hairdos, hair colors, weight fluxuation and, of course battle fatigue.
She has been on a break from chemo for four months, but yesterday she took the time to comiserate with me about how hard the battle gets. Pain is always the issue. We are constantly looking for ways to defeat it. Not so much pain from the disease but pain from what years of chemo has done to our bodies. Sleep is our second issue. Who knows what nights you will end up not sleeping for who knows what reason and how that takes you down for the following day....a day you don't want to waste but do anyway because it's too hard to get out of bed. Then there is the constant sticks, pokes, shots, withdrawals, labs, and the ever-looming scans.
Sue and I have woven these components of cancer treatment into the fabric of our everyday lives. We live by a different calendar than people who do not fight the disease. Our time is divided into sections of 1 week, 10 days, 3 weeks, or 30 days. We have different measures for our successes and milestones of our lives. We both are a pair of extroverted, verbally expressive soldiers who never forget what is lurking somewhere back behind us in the shadows. To an outsider, we may look like two queens of denial, but we are really street-wise gang members who are living large but always mindful that a drive-by shooting may be just around the corner.
Sometimes all of it just wears me out. I was pretty fed up with the whole thing yesterday. Janet probably picked up on it when she saw me the day before. The inside of my mouth was sloughing away, the skin on my hands is like tissue paper, and the exhaustion in my voice had to be detectable. Despite all of our great, great victories over the past month, I can never forget that, as in any war, the battle takes a toll. This isn't sugar water they're putting in my veins. Really, I do not know the last time I was off chemo.....perhaps over two years??? Janet and Maha are giving me an extra six days before my next round. It feels like freedom.
But, as always, I will take whatever it takes. I have never said "no more". I will still be loud and happy and positive and hopefully, bring something meaningful to everybody I see during this journey. When I get so exhausted physically, I also rest in the comfort that God is always there to "cover (me) with his feathers, and under His wings (I) will find refuge;" Ps.91:4
Throughout the whole book of Psalms, God is constantly providing rest, refuge and protection for the battle weary David. He still does it today to all that ask it of him.
So when I feel weary. When the battle seems to overwhelm me....I only have to do one thing.
That thing is to remember the words of the greatest Comforter: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28
The footnote to all this? The denial queens have been comiserating over the battle coming up on four years this month. Not bad for a couple of crazy gals.
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