In looking for a "hook" for these final days running up to the completion of chemotherapy I could find nothing more appropriate to use.
Next week will bring about Round 6 and what has been promised to be the end of the slow poisoning of my entire being.
Were we successful? We still don't know and I'm not entirely sure if we ever will. All I know is that like the farmers in my DNA I rolled the dice on having a good outcome with some time left over at the end to fulfill whatever purpose God has for me here.
My doctors appointment Tuesday brought some lifting of my spirits as we discussed ways to hopefully make this round a little less traumatic. Each time I speak with a medical professional about this process I learn things. Being the age I am I was taught to trust and respect authority and vast education so most of my life I've just kept silent and put myself into supposedly wiser better hands. That is not always the case that is best.
We are all individuals with different neurons firing, different levels of tolerance and a lot of variables in our situations that make our experiences unique to just us.
Tuesday, I learned that I should be worn completely out. I ought to be so tired I feel like I could just lay down and slip away. I am severely anemic and there's nothing that can be done right now. Chemo is a killer and it kills without caring about good things vs bad things. It just poisons. I've struggled with the neuropathy throughout the whole process and it turns out my reactions in this regard aren't usual either. Perhaps this was my tit for tat for not ever having a nauseous moment. Big gratitude for this, for sure!
But, none of us were ready for me having such a radical diminishing in my ability to walk, or use my hands. Even my worsening eyesight is a nasty little gift from peripheral neuropathy. And, right at the moment, I feel more like a seriously disabled person than anything else. Unsteady, teetering around, feet like unresponsive anchors tethering me to the ground, hands that can't perform simple small tasks and an exhaustion level that makes the act of getting dressed almost more than I can think about.
Because these issus are so profound they once again are going to adjust down the level of one of the chemo drugs known to cause neuropathy (the last adjustment didn't work), but fingers crossed for this one. They are also building into my treatment schedule for Round 6 every other day infusions of fluids if I think those might help. And, I have to say, those drips do often pull me back from the abyss....so, again....hopefully optimistic.
I face this final round with more than a little dread but I still find hope that this time won't be as bad as last time. I have a baby sitter on board to stay with me throughout the week following because the difference that made last round was HUGE! Not having to deal with the the everyday little household jobs was life saving for me. But I do hate that I have been forced to be so dependent on anyone....but that too, is learning for me....and humbling.
Mentally, I am trying to hold it together as I walk into this anniversary of losing the one person who could have held me safe throughout this time. I have missed him so badly...but sometimes I hear his cliched phrases "we'll get through this, we always do", "don't worry....everything is going to be fine" and "you are always beautiful to me" and I'm comforted. This illness is lonely and isolating. It is also uncomfortable and sad. But, in many ways it is also beautiful because especially here in the short rows of this toxic little farm you see the true character of people. You see beautiful hearts you never expected. Visits from long ago friends, door dashed meals, or home cooked offerings, the care of my little dogs, the rides to and from appointments, the Sunday afternoons on the lake just soaking in nature, the little gifts, the BIG gifts, the messages, the calls, the guys at work that walk around specifically to hug my neck and ask if I need anything. People these are huge!
I don't appreciate the word "struggle" when it refers to me, but I've had to admit that I have struggled some with certain aspects of this journey. I don't know if there's a end to that....time will tell. I do know that I have changed and I honestly think it has been for the better. I've never been weak or helpless but I have found out I am stronger than I ever realized I was. I've also realized that my strength is not Me-Made. I turned everything over to God. If it needs fixing, I just need to allow Him to step between me and whatever the challenge is. I said at the beginning, I'm not driving this car....at this point I'm not even walking this road on my own feet. As mine falter, God leans in and keeps me standing. And He has made sure that He positioned the right people in places of genuine need. His wisdom amazes me.
So....pray for those I've always asked it for, and pray for those who stand ready here to help during this last hurrah. Pray, I get to ring that bell and celebrate an end to this phase of row cropping and that somewhere out there is some brilliant mind who may tomorrow shout "Eureka! I've found a cure!"
"The Lord is the strength of His people, a fortress of salvation for His anointed One. Save your people and bless your inheritance: be their shepherd and carry them forever." -Psalm 28: 8-9
But this......please know you are not lost....God knows exactly where you are and he's reaching for your hand.
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