The Chemo Journey

1 Sam. 1:15 “And Hannah answered and said, No, my lord, I am a woman of a sorrowful spirit: I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but have poured out my soul before the LORD.”

The Chemo Journey

Preparing for the inevitable chemo Herceptin was an anxiety driven road riddled with potholes. First with the, “We need to see if your heart can handle this drug,” to “Come in the day before treatment to have your blood drawn.” All while having to say my goodbyes to the wonderful young lady who brought me this far in my Physical Therapy recovery and her team that I had grown to know and love over seven months.

A rollercoaster of emotions that I’m still not sure I’m doing the right thing but I was powering through like a champ. The heart test was tedious; take my blood, wait thirty minutes, put my blood back with some kind of drug that would identify if my heart was pumping. Into a tube after putting those lovely sticky nodule things on my chest and into the tube for twenty minutes of picture taking. I wouldn’t find out the results until chemo-day.

Even the day of drawing my blood was filled with anxiety as the lady who drew my blood was not the regular lady and it kind of hurt this time with the wiggling of the chair's arm. My arm was at an awkward position, thus the needle hurt going in and when she was done, she pressed on some cotton that didn’t feel too good but again, I was pushing through the day. Test results wouldn’t be available until the next day, chemo day. 

Chemo day arrived and my anxiety had hit an all-time high. There was no form of meditation or prayer calming me that’s for sure but again, trudge through, rain and all. I did want to go to the Mall and the Pretzel Palace where they make fresh soft pretzels. The day before we went there and met up with my son and he said he'd like to do that again on chemo day if I didn’t mind. Mind? Hubby, son and a soft pretzel equal heaven to me! And an FYI, NO, I'm not supposed to be eating it but at least I passed on the melted cheddar cheese that you could get with the pretzel. It was definitely comforting food for me in a hard time.

This was also the day the flood waters began to show signs of keeping us from getting out of the house. Hubby had been having troubles with his truck and hadn’t driven it much this winter and there was no way our already previously flooded out driveway would allow our car through. The water was rising, the substation across the road was covered, surrounded by water as I’d never seen. I was ready to cancel.

Hubby, determined to get me the doctor on Chemo Day, tried his truck, it started right up. He revved and revved, turned it off and on a couple of times and he was good to go! I wasn’t ready but he and the truck were.

As we swerved around the bend to slosh our way to the entry of our driveway, we saw what we were in for. The water around the substation was now crossing the road. The truck stalled, rev it up, stall. “Let’s go back,” I said anxiously. But instead, the next rev of the engine had us swerving on our way, up the muddy dirt road, where the ditches were almost level with the road beside them. On we went.

I had texted my son that we were on our way and would meet him at the mall at the Pretzel Palace. A relaxing visit that eased my anxiety and found me not in tears heading off to the Chemo that I was still against but trudged on anyway.

Arriving at the set time, slumped over and sad, I could feel my smile was a frown. I was not happy to be there and the thoughts of being a small child being led into a gas chamber weighed heavy on my mind. The weigh-in was grim. The hellos were stilted and the waiting for someone to come in and tell me what was next was like waiting for a dentist to yank out a wisdom tooth! I was so glad to have my husband by my side, but I could see that he too was tormented with confusion and uncertainty.

After a forty minute wait, the twenty-minute idle chit chat of the PA sent me off to ‘pick out a chair’ and they’ll set you right up. The room with the chairs was like looking at coffins to pick out. All looked like nice comfy recliners with chairs beside them for guests, but the recliners themselves looked like a deathbed. I feared that room from my very first day of diagnosis and now here I was, a victim to be sat in ‘the chair’.

As I, with a head of thinning hair sat and looked around, there was elderly bald folk hooked up by a port to get their poison. A thin young bald guy awaited his blood to be drawn and another lady waited for a shot in the stomach. Oh, the torture. I was about to cry when my doctor appeared saying he had a cold so he wouldn’t be shaking my hand today and asked if I was okay and had any questions. I had hundreds but shook my head no, tears now brimming my eyes. More idle chit chat that I didn’t hear and the nurse appeared with a needle. “You don’t have a port?” She asked quite shockingly like why are you here?
I told her no and she proceeded to stick a needle in my ‘bony arm’ and the juice flowed. For ninety minutes, with my back already in pain, I would sit as the poison flowed into my veins. I was now a victim of chemo. Outside the window, the sun briefly shone. Days on end of clouds and rain and here I was on my deathbed and the sky opened up and let the sun out to dance for a while.

After the ninety minutes were up, the nurse came back to flush something in my arm and I’d be there another ten minutes. This was almost a three-hour visit! I was hooked up to a blood pressure machine also, as this form of chemo affected the heart and they wanted to monitor me. I watched my blood pressure go from 115 to well over 140 by the time I left.

I rose to leave. Weakened, I almost dropped. My back in utter pain. Walker in hand, I made a beeline for the door, with my husband in hot pursuit. Walking past the front desk smiley receptionist says, “Is that all for today?” I wanted to tell her to go… nevermind… “I’m fine, thanks.” And walked out the door to be met by dark clouds, a chilled swift breeze and a mist starting to fall from the sky. The sun had run away too!

The chills, the pain, the anxiety, the sadness, the fear, the glazed watery eyes, the mud-puddles pretending to be roads all made their presence known. I will wallow in self-pity and figure out what I do now. Where does one go from here? 

TO BE CONTINUED…

There will be the REST of this story.
Please, no harsh criticism.

Pss. 18:4-5 The sorrows of death compassed me, and the floods of ungodly men made me afraid. The sorrows of hell compassed me about: the snares of death prevented me.

Hope

Prov. 10:28 “The hope of the righteous shall be gladness: but the expectation of the wicked shall perish.”

Do you have hope? In the world? In people?

The definition of hope in the dictionary is: 
*the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best: or 
*to believe, desire, or trust:

Yesterday I had hope that someone would come and plow us out of the 14 inches of snow that lay on the ground like a baby in a crib. The snow had imprisoned us in our homes so hope was all we had to hold onto if we were ever going to see the ground again. On Wednesday we had a family event, we all took turns out there with the one shovel we own. A path was made around the house leading to the front door; a little area was made for my dog so she could get out there too. I had hope we’d be freed and it happened by us all pulling together with the same hope on our quest.

Prov. 13:12 “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.”

Funny thing is Monday and Tuesday we HAD to have a little area for Sassy but the winds kept blowing all the shoveled snow back and kept the area from staying clear. The clearing had to be shoveled time and time again. Even with my back problems I did my share of shoveling to keep up on the storm. 

Life is like that sometimes; we see hope within our grasp of becoming a reality only for it to be covered by the winds of negativity that blow all the ugliness back into a heap. We can shovel and shovel all of the loaded bull that is flung out there, we can hide and disguise it with snow-white clarity, but it will never be gone. People do not want to change. 

The winds blow to keep the sailboat sailing. Like lies, rubbish and insincerity, people are the winds that keep the negativity flowing. They thrive on it because they want to keep the momentum moving forward and around and around the world it goes.

I have no hope in mankind. They are all set on destroying the world and the way I see it, they are succeeding. One positive does not shift the tons of negatives you feed the pool of hate, it’s like throwing a pebble in a raging sea and then trying to find that pebble. It isn’t there! It got gobbled up and became a part of the ocean floor. That is what your one positive thought for the day does it becomes obliterated in a sea of hate.

Yesterday hope came mounted on a John Deere tractor with a snowplow attachment that shoveled tons and tons of snow out of the long driveway allowing passage to the road needed for transportation. He plowed for hours even coming up on the back lawn giving Sassy and extended path and a much easier route to the mailbox. 

Why was I sad? He did a good job but left behind humongous tire tracks and blackened soil all over the place taking away the beauty of crystallized joy that I saw for days. I was sad because it metaphorically spoke to me that this is what man does to the beauty in the world; they plow their way over the flowers of the world with their hate and anger leaving behind mud. 

I held out for hope that the warmth would beautify everything again, instead I woke to more snow, falling aimlessly trickling and blowing and covering all the ugliness exposed yesterday. Man has within his hand the power to beautify the world but instead he chooses the darkness that he tucks away in his soul. 

Prov.29:20 “Seest thou a man that is hasty in his words? there is more hope of a fool than of him.”

As dark matter swallows up parts of the cosmos, man in his darkness is swallowing up the globe called earth. They feed off this darkness and serve it to unwitting victims and people gobble this crud up like it’s mashed potatoes and gravy.

While I maintain hope in the pure white snow and the written Word of God. I’ll allow Him to judge the men who have sent their soul to hell all in the name of God? This is a sad day humans.

Isa. 38:18 “For the grave cannot praise thee, death can not celebrate thee: they that go down into the pit cannot hope for thy truth.”

Hope…there IS reason to HOPE is there not?

Nurturing the Seed

Luke 8:14 And that which fell among thorns are they, which, when they have heard, go forth, and are choked with cares and riches and pleasures of this life, and bring no fruit to perfection

A lot of times people walk on rubble filled roads. They stumble and feel their feet are on unsure footing but they keep walking. Trudging along a dirt path yet always looking up to see if the sun will lighten the path, dry out the rubble and help them get to where they are going to in warmth without sinking in the mud.

Have you ever walked this path? Walked, stumbled, picked yourself up, then walked some more. Yeah I think many of us have. It’s always nice when the sun is shining down, isn’t it and we have light to show us the way?

I oftentimes think of those who stumble as I myself have sunk in a few mud traps myself. But what pulled me out, what gave me the strength to go on, knowing there was mud holes everywhere just waiting for my feet? The Son.

A seed, when placed in soil is sunken into the depths of darkness that we humans might not understand. Sometimes we cling to the darkness and linger there. A seed knows better than us! It knows that when the warmth begins to surround it, the seed rears its head and perks up, it feels even the slightest ray of sunshine and it begins its ascent in reaching for that Light that calls it to rise.

When we get comfortable in the soil, the mud pits, whatever you wish to call the deep abyss we sink into when depressed or fallen on hard times, the dark is the only thing to warm us. What happens to a seed, unattended by light and water? It dies, just as the soul does when not nourished.

My friend has a beautiful picture of a Christmas cactus that she shared. I told her my mother has one about 15 years old. I thought that was pretty long but she reported that her friend has one that is 35 years old! Wow! Talk about endurance. Love and care is what makes these plants so hardy. They weather many changes, through drought tolerance and climate changes; the Christmas cactus is one of the many plants that are perfect examples of human life.

Many people say they have no luck with plants. Luck, really? It is not by luck that a plant thrives nor does ones soul find rejuvenation by luck. I can bet that those who have no ‘luck’ with plants are the pessimist and realist of society.

I myself, while having many plants around my home that have survived 11 years so far and are still growing strong, I could never get a handle on Miniature Roses. I’ve had many but they all seemingly died! And I took the same care of them as I did my other plants. What was wrong? Care! I wasn’t caring for the sensitive plant. Like my soul, I let it do its thing, watering and tending thinking this was all it needed.

Love, it needed love and light and it needed care. My experiment this year was with another miniature Rose; a tiny frame in a 2-inch pot. I set it on my windowsill. It was really loving the Light, water and pruning! Just like my soul, AHA!

Spring arrived and I got the best soil for it to be replanted, a much bigger pot and set it outside in the warmth of the sun. It didn’t like the heat of the midday sun, but it thrived in the morning sun. There it sat until the temperature changes in late August had me pulling my very full and beautiful roses inside.

The leaves began to fall almost immediately to the extent I had bare twigs. Instead of seeing it as dead as in other years, I saw it as reviving itself. Shedding the old, bringing in the new, the next month would show a resurgence of life and this very day it is still alive and has a rosebud on it.

Sometimes we give up on our souls and just let them do their own thing. I’m sorry people but that is just not good enough! You need to nurture and tend your soul with the very best you can give it. I choose the Word of God but that might not be for everyone. We need to find what our soul needs to grow and feed it, treat it well, lavish it with tender care and beauty and you’ll see it flourish, even in the darkest of times.