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.

The Tests - Be Strong

2 Corinthians 1:3-4  “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”

The Tests

As the nurse wheeled me over to the other side of the hospital to await the trials of the day, tears flowed as people passed. Tissues placed throughout the hospital were grabbed along the way. Faces flew by in a collage then a whirling kaleidoscope fashion. 

I had papers to fill out, my husband handled questions to be answered mostly because words got caught up in my throat and wouldn’t come out. The nice lady took one look at me with tears rimming her eyes before sending me on my way with the comforting words, “I’ve been right where you are today, be strong,” These words were going to be the most frequent words heard for the next year to come. 

Mammogram first – I have to say I think I landed in an Angelic domain of hospital workers because every single person who cared for me had a glowing beauty about them. The first one being, Shantay (I think that’s spelled right) I won’t put too many names out here but that was the most beautiful name and the bubbly blonde connected to that name filled me with laughter on one of my darkest days. 

You would have never known that I was just told I have cancer or that I was about to experience a squishing-squashing ceremony of the boob. I told her, “If I can’t laugh, I’ve got nothing to hold onto.” She agreed and we continued with our out of the ordinary sense of humor. 

For example, the door she wheeled me through had big taped up cracks and I told her, “You did that didn’t you? You just wheeled someone into the glass and cracked it!” She replied, “I’m a dangerous driver.” Chuckle. 

I was handed a smock? Dressing to cover ‘my girls’ but as she noted I would be needing to change again and again and that I should just leave it on. As we were wheeling to the next session of ‘boob academy’, she noted, “Are your girls in?” 
“Well no, I just wanna flash everyone I pass! After this experience, I think I’ve earned that right.” More giggles and laughter. My tears were drying, my nose tender from all the rubbing; my head was pounding from no food, no water and the whirling of the room and tests. She had to part but didn’t leave without the comforting words ‘stay strong’ tear-rimmed eyes, and a gentle touch of the hand, “I wish I could go with you.” Bonding words if I ever heard. 

Onto the c-t scan – The nurse who came to wheel me into the c-t room was another angelic beauty. With piercing blue eyes and wavy black hair, she introduced herself and handed me off to ‘the table’ where a Mr. Clean looking man stood awaiting me to get on the bed. Haha, not a funny thought there, is it?

The Zooey Deschanel look-alike saw that I was already dressed for the occasion (the left-over smock from the squishy room), and asked if my ‘girls’ were in and well… in Joni fashion, I said, “No, I’m in a flashing mood today.” Mr. Clean chuckled and said, “Well I need to take pictures.” He thought about what he said and said “No, not like that, hahaha” He went on to poke me with an IV which would be used for a fluid to run through my veins and, his words, ‘make me feel like I wet myself’. As if I didn’t feel that way already before we met. 

I was sent through a Stargate portal and as I looked at a blinking light, right beneath it said, ‘Do Not Stare at the blinking light.’ Too late, I’m in a fog, I’m flashing people and I don’t even care at this point. “Be strong,” Mr. Clean said as I finished up with the portal and I was slowly taken away and wheeled over to the next leg of the journey, the pre-op!

The doctor who would perform ‘the surgery’ they called it (it was really just a 16 gage needle being stuck into my ‘girl’), looked a little like Kevin James. He was a jovial dark-haired man with soft hands and very capable of the duty set before him. He comforted my husband and I and we were told how routine this procedure has become. 

I had never experienced such a wonderful group of teammates. Sure being in this profession you need a spot on personality and caring compassionate ways but they handled me as if I was the Queen of England and treated me with kid gloves in every aspect of this journey. My longest waiting time was in the pre-op stage because as you can imagine, this process is apparently routine and the doc was working on someone else as I waited. 

His soft voice talked me through every step and while I was laying in an uncomfortable position (due to my arthritic pain) I lay still as David Crowder music played in the background gently lulling me to a safe comfort zone as my breast was being poked. BillyBob (male anesthesiologist) had asked what kind of music I like and no hesitation went into proclaiming my Christianity. David Crowder and Kari Jobi I said, and the young lady at the sonogram machine smiled, BillyBob said it was a nice upbeat sound.

BillyBob had asked if a young lady could come in and observe the process since she is in training. I said, “Sure, the more the merrier!” My sense of humor was kicking into overdrive. This is when we waited for ‘the surgeon’.

As I lay a foot from the sonogram screen with my left arm over my head, I gazed at the huge lump with sadness. I just stared and then said something… “Is this like the sonogram they give to look at babies?” The doctor in all seriousness said, “Yes, that’s exactly it!” I said in a deadpan rye way, “Is that my baby?” I could see his face turn blistering red as to hold back an outburst of laughter. “Is it a boy or a girl?” I asked. He calmly offered, “We should know by Tuesday.”

He went on to clean me up, gave me the pat on the back and I finally hear, “Good job! You did great! I have some really good samples here and now onto the hardest part, the wait.” 

All of their faces screamed ‘poor girl’ but I wouldn’t allow the down faces to carry me or them through the rest of the day, I went on to say, “I’m hungry! I haven’t eaten all day, no water and I’ve been up since 3 a.m.”
The doctor said, “You deserve to go and eat something.”

I giggled, “Chili from Wendy’s?”

He offered, “You earned two!”

“Tell my husband?” a little chuckle came out and a tear passed my cheek.

The observing girl offered, “You should get a Frostee, too!” I laughed. “Yeah, you both need to tell my husband that!

They both wheeled me back to the pre-op station/cubby hole and announced that I did really well to my husband. “And?” I said. “And she earned two chili’s from Wendy’s.” And the observer piped in “And a Frostee.” Hubby laughed and shook his head. This has to be hard on him too, I thought.

Thirty minutes later after a jello, water, IV removal, and BP checked as well as my temperature, (and a long awaited pee!) Then we were sent on our way into the blustery cold and blowing snow filled day. Wendy’s (drive-thru), home, then reality to deal with all that happened on this much eventful, test and tear filled day. In that order. 

Poetry Sunday ~ Unity

Gen. 9: 13 “I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.”

Unity

In the midst of beauty lies

Darkness gathered round

I heard it in the stillness there

Uncertainty with a sound

Join the voices calling out

Be one with God and man

In the stirrings of the heart

The Light to which I stand

The rainbows arc dances loud

Across the sunlit sky

In the back a darkened shroud

I hear the people cry.

Rain explodes from the span

Puddles form from drops

Divided in a darkened sky

A rainbow then erupts.

One color never shines alone

They join to cast a bow

A shower of solidarity

Men and women wish to know.

Only God can be the judge

Of man and earthly sin

The rainbow is a promise

Of the flood we’ll never win.

Gen. 9:16 “And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth.”

 

 

 

Cancer

Prov. 23: 5 Wilt thou set thine eyes upon that which is not? for riches certainly make themselves wings; they fly away as an eagle toward heaven.

Cancer

It was forty some odd years ago that my grandmother succumbed to lung cancer. I remember it being a time when there was no cure, yet, but there would be some day. Just saying the word makes me cringe. As a child I thought if I didn’t think about it, it couldn’t sneak up on me. I also thought it was a nasty contagious disease that was secretly going to take over the world.

In the past couple of years, my father has had throat cancer (5 years cancer free as of today), my uncle has been battling the disease, my dad’s sister is in the throes of losing the battle, Steven’s cousin died (30 years young) last year of colon cancer, he has a friend battling colon cancer (44 yrs young), my nephew HAD testicular cancer, I lost an online friend to colon cancer and the list of cancer eating away at my family and friends is not ending, it just keeps infesting!

I do have friends that have won the battle of breast cancer, so I do have hope that a cure is in sight for the future generations that will fall into its disastrous clutches. This year has not had the good start that I was looking forward to by no means at all!

Just last week I lost an online friend. She didn’t have cancer (praise God) but death took her away and spared her the lengthy illnesses that she had been enduring over the years. And now my aunt is lying in a hospital bed in what is surely the last day(s) of life succumbing and being taken over by the cancer that has slowly eaten away at her body.

I’m wondering if this is the prelude to a dismal year ahead of me. While I feel totally petty whining about my pain and my inability to walk, my incapable legs and back giving out on me, I’m swiftly reminded that it could be so much worse. I’m alive and I need to remember that, for whatever reason, God has a hold on me and is not ready for me but He’s putting my mind and body through the rigors of pain and heartbreak for a reason; to make me stronger perhaps?

I have to admit that I’m not looking forward to the year ahead. Not just because of all the illnesses sucking the life right out of people but also because I’m uncertain how this year is going to play out. Sure, we all head into a new year not knowing what it will bring but I myself can usually feel how good or bad it is going to be so I prepare myself for it. So I guess what it is telling me is to expect the unexpected.

I think I’m feeling isolated way out here in the middle of Nowhere, Nebraska. The nearest airport is over an hour and a half away, and the more reasonable airport that Nebraskans use is more than three hours away. Not that I could afford to jump on a plane and fly back at a minutes notice, but it still leaves me feeling very isolated and far far away from my family.

Back home an airport was twenty minutes away and I had two or three to choose from. Out here, we don’t have airports in the vicinity and we barely have a fire department, they are both Volunteer Fire Depts., and hospitals? We have one thirty minutes away but if it is something life threatening, we’d be flown out to Omaha! It’s just all very detaching from the outside world and especially, my family.

I don’t have much of a family but I do have my mother and father; all other family members wrote me off when I left home. I’m dribble on their crab bib. So you can see why I’m a little bogged down with emotions right now.

Uncertainty… it’s a low blow that hits when least expected. Now I see that my life is like a cancer, slowly sneaking up on me and sucking the life right out of me. Here’s hoping the year moves ahead in a positive manner and is somewhat good to me. It’s a wait and see kind of year.

Job 14:7 For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease.

 

 

Quotation Saturday

I believe that uncertainty is really my spirit's way of whispering, "I'm in flux. I can't decide for you. Something is off-balance here."
~Oprah Winfrey (1954 - ), O Magazine, June 2003

Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.
~Voltaire (1694 - 1778)

A preoccupation with the future not only prevents us from seeing the present as it is but often prompts us to rearrange the past.
~Eric Hoffer (1902 - 1983), The Passionate State of Mind, 1954
***

On a lighter note...

A Strange Christmas Scene
***
In a small southern town there was a "Nativity Scene" that showed great skill and talent had gone into creating it. One small feature bothered me.
The three wise men were wearing firemen's helmets.

Totally unable to come up with a reason or explanation, I left. At a "Quik Stop" on the edge of town, I asked the lady behind the counter about the helmets. She exploded into a rage, yelling at me, "You stupid Yankees never do read the Bible!" I assured her that I did, but simply couldn't recall anything about firemen in the Bible.

She jerked her Bible from behind the counter and ruffled through some pages, and finally jabbed her finger at a passage. Sticking it in my face she said "See, it says right here, 'The three wise man came from afar.'"
***
Something Cheap?
***

After being away on business for a week before Christmas, Tom thought it would be nice to bring his wife a little gift.

"How about some perfume?" he asked the cosmetics clerk. She showed him a bottle costing $50.

"That's a bit much," said Tom, so she returned with a smaller bottle for $30.

"That's still quite a bit," Tom groused.

Growing disgusted, the clerk brought out a tiny $15 bottle.

Tom grew agitated, "What I mean," he said, "is I'd like to see something real cheap."

So the clerk handed him a mirror.