Sun dogs and Sunrises

Photo taken by a Quad City viewer

Sun dogs. Bitter cold.  So cold that the little water vapor in the air crystallizes and reflects the spectrum of light from the dazzling sun.

Thankfully that was a couple of days ago and this morning the thermometer reads 26 degrees.  There is a deep fire orange and red sunrise.  The 15+ mph winds from the south are strong, but at least not cutting.  A promise of snow this afternoon.

I rejoiced last evening driving the children home.  It was after 5 o'clock and "yes!", the sun was still up!  I think we are almost at 10 hours of daylight.  Whew!  Almost time to start the tomatoes and peppers.  And in early March I can put a couple rows of lettuce and spinach in the hoop house. It will be so pleasant to have fresh greens.

Today's Journey Joys: glorious sunrise, squishy snow on the driveway, banana wheat breakfast muffins, smooth hazelnut coffee, a hot refreshing shower,  hair still clinging to the head, Ben's braces coming off today!

Bucket

What do you do when your bucket is leaking?  At least that is what seems to be happening.  There must be a slow seeping.  

Today was the third day of weekly chemotherapy.  

I didn't feel so grand going.  Tummy upset and tired.  I slept fitfully in the night. The clock kept adding.  I listened.  Children repositioning, Farmer Husband with a slow deep but gentle buzz.  The occasional house creak.  I tried to readjust to a sleep worthy place.  Alas, it was not forth coming.  My mind kept rehearsing the next morning. Ally's school was cancelled.  Ben's was not.  I have a 3 hour infusion.  It is cold, still.  My gracious friend Stacy will wonderfully open her packed home for one more child. (Thank you!).  Computer programming club after school.  Orthodontic appointment. Pickup and appointment at the same time. Chess tournament in the evening.  Juggle, juggle, juggle.  But eventually, by focusing on the intricacies of different flowers in my mind and by giving thanks for those features I was able to find rest.  

I am feeling more tired today.  Last week's restful and sleepy chemo escaped me this week. But grace upon grace I am being showered with love.  Tater-tot casserole, Wisconsin cheese soup, breakfast muffins, some truly amazing out of this world cookies, macaroni and cheese, and chocolate chip muffins.  My refrigerator is full.  I will not have to use mental energy (or physical for that matter) deciding what to make for supper.  Dear friends have blessed me. Oh-so-grateful.  I ponder awhile to wonder why food preparation is such an act of compassion. Deep into my heart the love fills.

I will rest more this evening.  

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (I Thessalonians 5:16-18)

Today's Journey Joys: seeing friends, stories of adolescent faith, compassion food, blue clear skies, extra time at the infusion center for resting, braces on the young one, laughter.

No school today

A sunny and bright -1 degree Fahrenheit

"Ring!!!" "Ring!!!"  "Huh?....what?" I stammer as I awake to the phone's ringing.  It's ten minutes to 11 o'clock and I've been asleep for about 20 minutes.  "Due to the severe cold and wind chills forecasted for tomorrow, school is cancelled...."

Thanks.

No, really.  Both schools cancelled means that I need not stir out of this cozy warm bed until I wake up or nature calls.  A sleep-in type of morning.  And a good one at that.

So 7:45 am rolls around and I'm neither awoken by having slept enough or having a full bladder.  But rather this nagging, churning, rumbling sensation in my tummy.  "Uh, oh.... 2 hours past when I should have had the anti-nausea medicine....ugh."  First things first.... find the ondansetron.  Then the bathroom.

Thankfully no hurling.  Just a little, well, shall I say, gurgling?  A strawberry banana yogurt breakfast, some coffee, and then a shower.  Still feeling tired but thankful for no obligations, car drives, or appointments today.  A day to rest I believe. Quiet.  Sleepy day.

It is sunny and bright.  And crisp.  Spring feels a long way away..... the hoop house resting as well.

Today's Journey Joys: bright blue sky, Frosty meowing and loving on me, birds thieving the cat food, smoke from the wood burning furnace, quiet children, faithful hardworking husband, friendly words.

Little showering rainbow

It was when I looked down to see the soap bubbles swirl between my toes.  There.  It was just a little one.  But there within, or against, or upon the shower curtain was a perfect little rainbow.  It was dark outside.  The little shower glass block window black without a glimmer.  The only light a little night light across the room.  But there it was nonetheless.

The shower has lately warmed me when my flesh refused to.  Standing with the just-barely-able-to-tolerate hot water pouring over me was delightful.  "Oh, finally....warm".  The night was sleep interrupted.  Ally-girl coughing, feverish, and moaning in her sleep.  Ibuprofen, water, and a cover up to the rescue.  And I dose back to sleep wondering how to manage the morning's needs.  It was week 2 of taxol today.  The temperature was 0 degrees Fahrenheit and the wind was gusting up to 30+ mph.  Another cold day.  And Ally was sick.  I have no one to watch a sick girl.  But I have to go to chemo.  And obviously I couldn't take her with me.

Contemplating my decision to keep my young man home from school, the warmth of the hot shower finally penetrates my cold.  "Everyone will have to make adjustments," I reassure myself.  But I am concerned about his academics and work load.  He has much on his school plate: learning two languages (Chinese and Spanish), pre-calculus, science, world history, world literature and taking a college course.  Missing class would be difficult.

I'm still ruminating my decision when the little rainbow glimmers against the shower curtain.  "Oh! Look!" I instruct myself, as if deep thoughts separated me from my abilities to perceive. "Promises.  The rainbow is a reminder of promises."

I have been remembering promises.  Clinging to, drawing strength from. I have been remembering.... God is faithful and true, a very present help in time of trouble.  He does not leave us.  He is with us.  With me. With - as in within, throughout, before, after, and beside. "God's promises."  Indeed a very present help. Provider of peace. Source of grace and joy.  The rainbow seems to smile.

Today's Journey Joys - little tiny rainbow promises on a cold dark morning, friends making scrumptious meals - a kindness so amazing, warm heat, pleasant nurses, uneventful and sleepy chemotherapy, chatting with friends, gooey Aquafor for chapped Ally faces, courage to comment on someone's blog whom I do not know.

Should be "purdy"

I woke up early... 4:12 am... seems to be a developing pattern.  This time though it was due to "nature's calling".  I've been drinking so much water and fluids, trying to lesson this burning colicky pain in my bladder.  Guess the poor lining is not too pleased with the concoction entering.  So I drink.  And drink.  And of course.... well, you know.

I'm not feeling very well this morning.  Tummy upset.  Legs weak and a little wobbly.  Farmer Husband makes our usual end of the week breakfast - chocolate malto-meal.  Ally-girl has banana muffins with cream cheese icing and red and green sprinkles.  She's thrilled.

An hour an a half later, after both children have been delivered to their respective schools, Farmer Husband and I pack up some lunch, paint, eggs, and a few other important tools.  Today we go to the "other" house to clean, spackle, sand, and paint.  "If I get too tired, may I just sit and rest?" I wonder aloud.  So much to do before we can get the final carpet in and place the whole thing on the market.

Dings, bangs, holes, scrapes, and dirt awaited us when we arrived to survey the damage from the previous renters.  I was able to find all the right paint for every room except the master bedroom and bath.  This room was formerly a lovely lilac light blue.  I had picked it out to match our beautiful bedspread when we lived there.  Unfortunately, I couldn't find the right color and tried to match it as best as I could at the store.  From the color of the paint in the can it looked perfect.  But spread it on..... ah!!!!! It's an iris purple!  Which would have been beautiful if that was the look I was after.... alas, it will be now.

We spent five hours.  Got a lot done.  Am pretty tired this afternoon but thankful that I was able to accomplish something. Perhaps tomorrow I can finish the bedroom and decide how I am going to lighten the bathroom.

Today's Journey Joys: lilac and iris purple, afternoon sunshine, rumbling dishwasher, Friday pizza, good muscle stretching, white paint art on hands.

The First Chemo Day

Teri's tan minivan crunches its way up the snow ice driveway precisely at 9:45.  She is my chauffeur. "Are you ready for this?" she asks encouragingly.

"No, probably not," I smile and laugh.  "But it's time."

I must be nervous.  I can't find my bag, my snacks, or my purse.  Where'd I put them?  Oh yeah, here they are.  "Do you want a banana muffin Teri?"  I smear white cream cheese frosting within the yummy muffin.  "I don't bake often but the kids.... but well, the kids wanted some... and the bananas were perfect for baking."

We grab everything.  It looks like I'm going on a three day trip.  Can anyone say, "kitchen sink?"  Yes, it appears that I am bringing my whole office to this first chemo appointment.  But I have things to do and five hours to do it in.  Might as well make the most of the opportunity.

It is a chilly and very windy day with gusts exceeding 30 mph. (Some say 50+).  The sky is gray.  No blue. No warm yellow sun. And we drive to the infusion center located at my oncologist's office (handy).  Teri drives a different and quicker way than I usually do.  "Oh, we're here...already," I mention.  "I could drive around the block a few times if you'd like," she says with a grin.  Breathe.  "Naw, let's go."

Breathe again.  I clamber out of the van with three different bags - computer bag, purse, and snack bag. Teri grabs a gift bag for me filled with really smart things - lifesavers to suck on and mask the funny taste chemo gives, an amazing cup which keeps things cold or hot really long, apple juice, and a few other snacks.

I meet nurse Lori at the door.  She is warm and friendly and encouraging.  She gets to business right away.  "Ah, your port is pretty pink still. When did it go in?"  And I mention it was five days ago and that is has been that color since the day it was inserted.  She seems relieved and proceeds to clean it and then access the port with her special needle.  She secures it with some nice clear adhesive tape and then attaches me to the normal saline.  After some vital signs, the infusion begins.  My nose feels stuffy almost immediately but that was the worst of it.

Six hours later, three agents, and three premeds later I am released to home.  I napped about 45 minutes with the effects of the Benadryl but am fine by the time it is to leave.  "I think next time I can do this myself," I inform Teri. "I feel like I could drive even now." But I am strangely tired.  Not a muscle tired or brain tired.  But a different tired.  Perhaps weary? I so enjoyed Teri being with me.  She was a pro and an excellent friend and support.  It was only two years ago when she sat where I was today.  It was reassuring to listen to her words of sound wisdom and grace.  What a blessing.

In all my bags, I forgot the camera.  Oops.

Today's Journey Joys: amazing friends, pineapple life savers, friendly and efficient nurses, warm blue blanket, medicine to keep the tummy quiet, peace.... grace and peace...

Step

Step.

“The single complete movement of raising one foot and putting it down in another spot.....” (The Free Dictionary).

“A movement made by lifting your foot and putting it down in a different place” (Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

Step.

Step. Step. Step.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

Many folks over the years have made a tradition out of professing some type of annual resolution.  I did that a few times as a young adult many moons ago.  Never achieving the resolution, always unobtainable, usually unrealistic.  For the past few years I have discovered, like many souls, that a focus or purpose is more necessary than a list of actions to take, or not to take.

This year I have chosen the word "Step".

The purposeful placement of me.... moving....in a particular direction.  Carried by the knowledge and faith that this current journey is not a "wrong" turn, but an unforeseen one. 

I like this word for its action, movement, and resolve.  It's not a race, a particular length, a particular pace.  But a methodical resolve to tread ahead.  In spite of knowing that the upcoming path is precarious... I will step.  Today.  One foot at a time. 

Step. 

Step. Step. Step.

And as I step, I chose joy.  Sometimes through tears.  Sometimes through laughter.  Sometimes in pain.  Sometimes in rest.  But as I step, I chose joy.   

"For I know the plans I have for you says the Lord.  Plans for peace and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope." (Jeremiah 29:11)

Today's Journey Joys: broken crusty leaves floating down water rivulets, condensation balling on the panes, my hair locks given, winter thaw, a balmy thirty seven degrees and wonderful sunshine, friends picking up children.

The cutting of the mane

As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short. “Your hair! Your beautiful hair! Oh, Jo, how could you? Your one beauty….” (Louisa May Alcott, Little Women).

Sizing it up.  Can you tell I'm a tad nervous?

Dividing and conquering

Who knew there was a curl under all that hair?

Debi.... the best!  Thank you!

Debi and Mike brought croissants, sliced turkey, black forest ham and roast beef.  And all the trimmings. And in that pink little basin?  All of Debi's styling materials.  Scissors, razors, combs, clips, and "products".

Today was the day when another baby step toward the Journey was taken.  In a couple of days I will be receiving a medication (among others) called paclitaxel.  This drug is meant to help prevent the cancerous cells from becoming invasive.  It also has this one other effect - it makes one lose her hairs.  Because of this I was encouraged to have my rather long hair cut before chemotherapy.  I guess loosing three inch hair is a little easier than losing 15 inch strands.  

Debi called it, "sassy".  Think I may need a little "sassy" in the days to come.

Today's Journey Joys: gracious friends, shiny clippers, scalp massage, turkey sandwiches, winter sunshine through the panes, son teaching software, and "sassiness".

The Precipice

It's a steep path going down.  It bends and winds.  Bordered by remnants of prickly wild brush.  The rose hips shrunken, brown, and scarce. But once started there is no return.

The bottom promises a brief respite yet the goal is far off and deeply engraved in still another climb.

I've been standing, or rather fidgeting, at the precipice.  Battling between escapism and promise of a difficult journey.  Waiting.  Confessing that I am a poor wait-er.  But making preparations nonetheless.

The farm lies resting under the white cold.  Mounds of deeply mulched garlic causing sand dune-like drifts in the snow.  The hoop house is  motionless and gray, reflective of the sky.  All is quiescent.  Resting.  Blue jays cry in the sky.  The soaring bald one effortlessly glides.  Blueberry bushes buried.  Horse weed seed nourishing the sparrows.  Our bees clustered.

The port was inserted yesterday.

It is time.

Time to start down the Road.  Of chemotherapy, biological agents, steroids, antihistamines and tummy medicine.  Of surgery, recovery, radiation, and more biological agents.  Of relying.  Of obvious vulnerability.
Holding on to the One who goes with me.  Who goes before me.  And is behind me.

Today's Journey Joys: tumbling dryers, lavender pasta and grilled chicken, moist warmer winter day, wounds that heal, ports which make access easier, a quiet day of rest and solitude, faithful Words, grace... oh, for grace.

The last cleaning hurrah!

The Road took a bend on November 7, 2013.  It was then that the routine mammogram turned into a diagnostic one, followed by an ultrasound, followed by a rather unpleasant biopsy.  On November 11th I contacted my friend who happens to be my primary physician and asked, as is customary, "How are you?"  Her response, although not unexpected, was not what I wanted to hear.  "Better than you are," she kindly responded.

Now over two months later and many procedures and tests to determine the extent of the disease it is clear that the ER/PR positive and HER2/neu positive breast cancer needed attending to.  The wonderful folks at Mayo strongly recommended neoadjuvant (before surgery) therapy due to a new promising drug and regimen recently approved by the FDA for neoadjuvant therapy in breast cancers like mine.  But getting "sick" around the holidays is a scheduling nightmare... and so finally the day has arrived.

Tommorow, at 8:15 am I am scheduled to have my port placed.  Tuesday I start the "systemic therapy".

But today... well today I'm cleaning. The cold gray skies look grayer than they should.  Something about dust and dirt on window panes.  The only bathroom in our small humble abode needs scrubbing from the ceiling to the floor. It's even a day to attack the dreaded medicine cabinet.  Ha!  Out with you dirt and grime!  So scrub, scrape, rinse, sweep, mop, declutter, replace, toss out....ah...oops.... the nail trimmer went down the drain.... "Honey???"

Apparently I will be kind of sore tomorrow after the port placement and then for several days thereafter.  And I am supposed to take it "easy".  No overhead reaching or strenuous exercise.  Can't wash the ceiling without doing that - A perfect reason then to clean like crazy today.

It helps distract my mind from anxious thoughts.  And perhaps I will be very tired... to sleep when bedtime arrives....

"Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7) 

Today's Journey Joys: Shiny white tile, blow dry window insulation, red-bellied woodpecker on suet, school in session, quiet thoughts, sparkling sink, blueberry tea, and cuddling girl.

Chemotherapy Education

I couldn't sleep.  The pillow needed adjusting; the blankets were too high; my shoulders were creaking.  Yet it was very dark still.  The stars glimmered against the now still white snow.  4 am.  The soft breathing of the children's resting stirred.  An occasional "drip...drip" - the faucet?  The humidifier?

I finally crawled out of bed at 5:30 succumbing to the early morning insomnia.  A dull throbbing sensation rhythmically affecting my brain as if low in hydration or withdrawal from caffeine.  "Oh, I need a cup of coffee!"  I moan.  My bare toes touch the tile on the bathroom floor. Brrrrr chilly. The outside thermometer reading -6 degrees.  But still. No bitterly cold whipping winds to sting the face.

Today I have an appointment.  It is one of the "required" educational appointments I need in order to discuss the systemic regimen I will be starting next week. I am strangely nervous.  But Farmer Husband graciously attaches the oil pan heater to the gray Corolla before he leaves and then bundles up and heads off into the darkness and cold for an early morning appointment.  A shower, breakfast, and a quick look in at my students in my online class.  And then off to the appointment.

Sheila B., the nurse practitioner greets me in the patient room.  She is friendly, to the point, but gentle.  She covers the information well and allows me to interrupt.  She smiles when I start acting like a health care clinician.  She reminds me that I am the patient... that the priority must be centered on my care and needs....those of mother, professor, clinician...they are back burners.  That I must take care of me in order to continue caring and loving those dearest to me.  My mind understands that logic but my heart rebels.  To be vulnerable like this is oddly disconcerting.  The hardest part?  Asking others for help. Of greatest concern: How do I get two children to school (and back) 17 miles in different directions - one on a bus; one driven typically by me?  Sheila explains that I will be tired after 5 hours of chemotherapy and additional medications.  I will not be allowed to drive home... at least the first day.  How do I get there every week and get home?

I sign papers, pick up a folder of information, make future laboratory test appointments and leave the oncology office.  The receptionist ladies are wonderful and helpful.  I feel welcomed and cared for.

Educated today.  A great beginning.  The experiential to follow.

Today's Journey Joys: cars that start in subzero temperatures, warm homes, pizza in the oven, Snowy, our white cat, with frost on his eye brows, peach tea.

New Paths

It was a few weeks before Christmas 2013 when I asked our astronomy friend and engineer, "Al, would you be willing to take a few family pictures of us with that amazing camera of yours?"  He was enthusiastic and very willing.  We met at the John Deere Pavilion on a cold wintry and windy December.  The Pavilion was warm and, as always, filled with amazing John Deere equipment - from monster tractors and combines to tree processors.  Yellow and green and heavy metal everywhere.  Some festive white lights on the Christmas tree at the main entrance.

We stood in front of and beside almost every piece of equipment.  I don't even remember what the background of this photo was.  Some huge industrial green machine with many large black hydraulic hoses and engine.

Ben has gotten tall.  Ally is a young lady.  And Farmer Husband Gary and I are more "seasoned".  It is good to capture this moment in our lives.

Farmer Husband Gary mentions in an inconsequential manner, "Yeah, we needed a family photo before Chris lost all her hair..." For awhile the comment does not register with our friend.... or at least he does not question it.  But after what seemed a bazillion shots and poses, Farmer Husband slows down his walking while the children and I proceed to the exit.  "Chris has breast cancer.  Sure do appreciate you taking our picture."

So here we are.  A new journey.  A path through prickly thorns and brambles.  But I can see it. The path, that is.  It has been traveled before.  Visions of hope, struggle, vulnerability, and some uncertainty.  I've only just begun.  The last two months have seen mammograms, MRIs, CT scans, blood work, four more biopsies, an echocardiogram, and visits to Mayo. Now, after two months I will begin the first incline on this long unexpected journey.  Next week a port placement and then five days later the "medicine" which is supposed to stop the malignancy from growing, will begin.  A divergent path.  "Ah, really.... can we stick to the one I was on?"  Yet, the assurance of the One.  Emmanuel. God with us, is ever present. "No... but I am with you....regardless... always."

"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed for I am your God.  I will strengthen you. I will help you.  I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." (Isaiah 41:10)

Today's Journey Joys: crunchy white snow, warm cozy home, sun shining through pale blue winter skies, school vacations, a plan, homemade chicken noodle soup, friends more amazing than I could hope for.