Anniversaries are funny things. Sometimes we make a big deal out of them, sometimes, we don't. Some people want flowers, jewelry, presents...particularly to mark the milestone ones. I just had two milestone anniversaries last week.
Five years ago, on February 10th, 2004, I was admitted into Rex hospital for nine days. I had an emergency chest tube put in. One lung completely filled with fluid. Cancer had returned with a vengance. In my chest wall, in my lymph nodes, in my pelvis, rib, shoulder. Stage IV had come to call.
So when February 14, 2004 rolled around, I was in pajamas, a tube in my chest, hair unwashed,
pale, angry, depressed, feeling betrayed that after all we had done IT was back anyway, and there I was in the hospital. Eating bad food, watching bad TV and missing my 20th wedding anniversary with my husband. That's right. My 20th wedding anniversary was spent in the hospital. That year, I got jewelry.
So last week, I passed my five year since reccurence anniversary. It was mentioned, everyone smiled. I also had my 25th wedding anniversary. This time I was away for the weekend with my husband....showing dogs, seeing old friends, going out to dinner. I did not get jewlery...I did not even want it. When he asked me what I wanted as a gift I could think of nothing I didn't already have. The greatest anniversary gift ever had already been given to me by God and modern medicine and all the people in my boat. Hard to believe, yet not hard to believe that I made it to this milestone.
Hard to believe that I would be perfectly happy with the gift of time. Time to enjoy my husband's company. Time to watch him across a room of people a realize what an amazing man he is. Time to watch him savor authentic Cuban food at a small restaurant we found for our anniversary dinner. We didn't talk about it much, but we knew how absolutely fortunate we were to be together at this place and time, living this life, still loving each other. I'm telling you girls....time and appreciation and recognizing how lucky you are to be alive and have a good man and to be able to cross a milestone anniversary.....there is nothing better, nothing made by the hands of man, that could ever top that gift.
That's what anniversaries should be. A date, a moment that you appreciate the time you have been given. Whether it's time to be alive or time to be together in a marraige. All time is a precious, precious gift. When you look at an anniversary in that kind of light, it doesn't become about the presents or flowers...it is all about appreciation and gratitude and love.....and recognition of how you were blessed enough to be given such a gift. Just so you know that I know where my gift this year did come from, the apostle James will tell you:
"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights,...."
James 1:17
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Keeping Our Fingers Crossed
Call it what you want. We are all doing it. Thinking good thoughts. Keeping a positive attitude.
Meditating. Visualizing. Waiting. Hoping. We are all doing the same thing. Whether newly diagnosed, through with treatment and trying to get on with life, stuck in a cycle that comes with metastatic disease, or fighting to add months, weeks, even days to the life expectancy we've been told we have. We are all praying.
We are all praying in our own ways, our own traditions, our own religions. Some depending solely on a single loving God, some to many gods, some to themselves and their own inner strength. But we, the cancer patients, are always focused on the disease and if we will be one of the ones to outlive it...beat it....be cured....be healed. Prayer is a constant river that runs through each and every one of us who sit back in the chairs, sit with the people who sit in the chairs, or treat the people who sit in the chairs. We rarely talk about it amongst ourselves when sitting there in the treatment chairs on Asheville Avenue, but I feel it in my soul every time I turn the corner and walk past the glass partition. Among all the fear, pain, resignation, exhaustion, resentment, and depression that seems to lay low on the ground at our feet, there is the running stream of prayer, the waters of hope, the river that flows within us, confirming our spiritual strength, our power to believe:b the power of prayer.
Yesterday, while sitting in the chair and observing all that was going on around me (busy day for the girls), the nurse who was trying to access the veins of the elderly woman beside me was having a little problem. She had found the vein...."a good stick".... but the vein had "blown" or collapsed the minute she tried to put fluid in it. This happens a lot to those of us whose veins are tired and scarred and used up from years of all the sticking. So I knew the nurse felt bad and the older woman knew she would be stuck yet another time out of hundreds of times....maybe thousands. So what did I do? I prayed. I prayed that the next stick would be great and not blow and open up and let the medicine flow. I asked God for mercy for the nurse and the patient. Such a small thing, but why add to the suffering, Lord? And my prayer was answered.
I look back on yesterday and think.....such a small prayer, but one with an immediate, divine
"ok", and I think why not go for the BIG stuff, Lord. Why just show me the small???? I figure it was a small God moment that I needed to see to boost my faith. That God never promised us we would not suffer as his children, he promised that we would never be alone. That one small good stick was His way of saying to me, "I see you. I hear you. I am with you, always.....even in small ways." The nurse and patient totally unaware of the holy conversation taking place beside them. The immediate peace the second stick brought to me and known only to me, to be cherished by me.
When Maha and I had our meeting (exam) yesterday, we said we were hopeful that my numbers that we will run in two weeks will reflect the positive way my body has been behaving lately. Relatively speaking, I feel pretty darn good. Relatively speaking I am symptomless from what cancer may cause.....no bone pain, no abdominal pain, no shortness of breath, no fluid in the lungs, no abnormal nodes or swollen organs. Any problems I have seem to be from what I have to take and the years of what I have already taken. So, as two old comrades in the fight, knowing better than to let our guard down at any time and be too positive; knowing that even though my body is a good barometer of my overall health and status, and knowing we have been snake-bit before, Dr. Elkordy parted with these words: "We'll keep our fingers crossed."
I turned back to her immediately and said, "Oh no, we'll do much more than that." She nodded her head because she knows. And she knows that I know what we will be doing. We will be praying...praying like my life depends on it. Because it does.
"Be joyful always; Pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances....." 1Thessalonians 16-18
Meditating. Visualizing. Waiting. Hoping. We are all doing the same thing. Whether newly diagnosed, through with treatment and trying to get on with life, stuck in a cycle that comes with metastatic disease, or fighting to add months, weeks, even days to the life expectancy we've been told we have. We are all praying.
We are all praying in our own ways, our own traditions, our own religions. Some depending solely on a single loving God, some to many gods, some to themselves and their own inner strength. But we, the cancer patients, are always focused on the disease and if we will be one of the ones to outlive it...beat it....be cured....be healed. Prayer is a constant river that runs through each and every one of us who sit back in the chairs, sit with the people who sit in the chairs, or treat the people who sit in the chairs. We rarely talk about it amongst ourselves when sitting there in the treatment chairs on Asheville Avenue, but I feel it in my soul every time I turn the corner and walk past the glass partition. Among all the fear, pain, resignation, exhaustion, resentment, and depression that seems to lay low on the ground at our feet, there is the running stream of prayer, the waters of hope, the river that flows within us, confirming our spiritual strength, our power to believe:b the power of prayer.
Yesterday, while sitting in the chair and observing all that was going on around me (busy day for the girls), the nurse who was trying to access the veins of the elderly woman beside me was having a little problem. She had found the vein...."a good stick".... but the vein had "blown" or collapsed the minute she tried to put fluid in it. This happens a lot to those of us whose veins are tired and scarred and used up from years of all the sticking. So I knew the nurse felt bad and the older woman knew she would be stuck yet another time out of hundreds of times....maybe thousands. So what did I do? I prayed. I prayed that the next stick would be great and not blow and open up and let the medicine flow. I asked God for mercy for the nurse and the patient. Such a small thing, but why add to the suffering, Lord? And my prayer was answered.
I look back on yesterday and think.....such a small prayer, but one with an immediate, divine
"ok", and I think why not go for the BIG stuff, Lord. Why just show me the small???? I figure it was a small God moment that I needed to see to boost my faith. That God never promised us we would not suffer as his children, he promised that we would never be alone. That one small good stick was His way of saying to me, "I see you. I hear you. I am with you, always.....even in small ways." The nurse and patient totally unaware of the holy conversation taking place beside them. The immediate peace the second stick brought to me and known only to me, to be cherished by me.
When Maha and I had our meeting (exam) yesterday, we said we were hopeful that my numbers that we will run in two weeks will reflect the positive way my body has been behaving lately. Relatively speaking, I feel pretty darn good. Relatively speaking I am symptomless from what cancer may cause.....no bone pain, no abdominal pain, no shortness of breath, no fluid in the lungs, no abnormal nodes or swollen organs. Any problems I have seem to be from what I have to take and the years of what I have already taken. So, as two old comrades in the fight, knowing better than to let our guard down at any time and be too positive; knowing that even though my body is a good barometer of my overall health and status, and knowing we have been snake-bit before, Dr. Elkordy parted with these words: "We'll keep our fingers crossed."
I turned back to her immediately and said, "Oh no, we'll do much more than that." She nodded her head because she knows. And she knows that I know what we will be doing. We will be praying...praying like my life depends on it. Because it does.
"Be joyful always; Pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances....." 1Thessalonians 16-18
Friday, February 6, 2009
Call it what we want
"Yet (we) did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but were strengthened in (our) faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised." Romans 4:20-21"
That's a powerful scripture, isn't it? Written by Paul about Abraham. The man with so much faith that he would have offered up his only son Isaac on an altar because God told him to. Oh, how could one man have so much absolute faith??? It seems like there are very few modern-day Abrahams around.
I, for one, have my moments when I do not waver. When I have been "fully persuaded" that God would do as he promised. Then, there are other times when I do waver. I struggle with purpose and intent and plan. I have unbelief. These are the times that, as well as asking God, I turn to others to ask for help in my unbelief. When the numbers come back not so great, but I am feeling great, I have learned that instead of wavering; instead of being sucked under by doubt and panic, that the people in my boat will band together, take the latest results and call it what we want to get me through to the next round. This time we are calling it a "deceleration of the rate of increase of the tumor marker". How's that for spin??? The marker didn't go down, but it didn't go up half as fast as it had been. And besides:
I just had one round of therapy.
I just started back on Avastin, which makes all chemotherapy work better.
Forward motion has to be slowed before it can stop completely and start going backwards. (good one from my boss)
I like that way of thinking. (standard friend reply)
We have to give this course of therapy time to work before we abandon it.
I am still relatively symptomless and feeling better than I have in months.
We can talk about a liver procedure "down the road."
I love it when someone says "down the road" or "next year" or "we're saving that for when we really need it" All these things my medical team, my friends, and my family say to me to keep me looking forward, to keep me focused, and to help me have the faith of Abraham. These words of analyzation, justification, and encouragement allow me to take a call from Janet about
the numbers I didn't want to hear and go right back to working a two-day trade show like nothing ever happened. They're not panicking so I'm not panicking. We're calling the latest round of numbers what we want. They are "not that bad" we say. They are just a stepping stone on the way to reversing the course, stemming the tide, and beating back the enemy. This is in no way a setback or a time for gnashing of teeth and ripping of clothes. Now is the time to be Abraham. And I have no doubt that we all will come together again and have that faith, that unwavering faith that the battle continues and we are strong and willing and life and the living will go on.
So look in my boat. My boat is full of people all with different first names and backgrounds and jobs and relationships to me. But they all have the same nickname and it is Abraham. Oh, and for those of you who are wondering about the lonely pain pill (earier post) that I have sitting on my nightstand, just in case I had another severe bout of bone pain in the middle of the night, well the pill is now gone. Gone back into the prescription bottle because I have faith that I will not need it. There's an Abraham moment for you. How absolutely cool is that?
That's a powerful scripture, isn't it? Written by Paul about Abraham. The man with so much faith that he would have offered up his only son Isaac on an altar because God told him to. Oh, how could one man have so much absolute faith??? It seems like there are very few modern-day Abrahams around.
I, for one, have my moments when I do not waver. When I have been "fully persuaded" that God would do as he promised. Then, there are other times when I do waver. I struggle with purpose and intent and plan. I have unbelief. These are the times that, as well as asking God, I turn to others to ask for help in my unbelief. When the numbers come back not so great, but I am feeling great, I have learned that instead of wavering; instead of being sucked under by doubt and panic, that the people in my boat will band together, take the latest results and call it what we want to get me through to the next round. This time we are calling it a "deceleration of the rate of increase of the tumor marker". How's that for spin??? The marker didn't go down, but it didn't go up half as fast as it had been. And besides:
I just had one round of therapy.
I just started back on Avastin, which makes all chemotherapy work better.
Forward motion has to be slowed before it can stop completely and start going backwards. (good one from my boss)
I like that way of thinking. (standard friend reply)
We have to give this course of therapy time to work before we abandon it.
I am still relatively symptomless and feeling better than I have in months.
We can talk about a liver procedure "down the road."
I love it when someone says "down the road" or "next year" or "we're saving that for when we really need it" All these things my medical team, my friends, and my family say to me to keep me looking forward, to keep me focused, and to help me have the faith of Abraham. These words of analyzation, justification, and encouragement allow me to take a call from Janet about
the numbers I didn't want to hear and go right back to working a two-day trade show like nothing ever happened. They're not panicking so I'm not panicking. We're calling the latest round of numbers what we want. They are "not that bad" we say. They are just a stepping stone on the way to reversing the course, stemming the tide, and beating back the enemy. This is in no way a setback or a time for gnashing of teeth and ripping of clothes. Now is the time to be Abraham. And I have no doubt that we all will come together again and have that faith, that unwavering faith that the battle continues and we are strong and willing and life and the living will go on.
So look in my boat. My boat is full of people all with different first names and backgrounds and jobs and relationships to me. But they all have the same nickname and it is Abraham. Oh, and for those of you who are wondering about the lonely pain pill (earier post) that I have sitting on my nightstand, just in case I had another severe bout of bone pain in the middle of the night, well the pill is now gone. Gone back into the prescription bottle because I have faith that I will not need it. There's an Abraham moment for you. How absolutely cool is that?
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