Yourself, in third person

I’m sitting in the glider rocking chair in my living room, gliding back and forth, attempting to focus on my student’s papers.  I’m on the 26^th paper… all about the same case study.  Something about a 45 year old woman who injured her knee while she was playing kickball with her 4^th grade students during recess…And I read all about the injury and circumstances surrounding it – all 26 times.  I read about her past medical history, her family history, her review of systems…. And on and on and on.

And the phone (thankfully!) interrupts my work.  “Hey Chris, it’s Kathy. “  “Are you up to going to a CEU presentation?  Dr. Ch. is presenting a talk on HER2 positive breast cancer – neoadjuvant therapy.  It starts at noon.”   It’s 10:45.

Hmmm… I think.  Well, I know a little bit about this subject….and I always need CEUs – and free ones are always a plus.  Besides, it might be nice to learn more about what my oncologist knows about my cancer.  So since I was already showered.  I figured, “why not?”  Mind you, it took me twenty minutes of rumination for me to come to that conclusion though.

I throw my wig on and then zip through town racing to get there on time.  And thankfully find a parking spot right at the front door.  Kathy greets me as soon as I’m in the building.  We sign in and she grabs the catered lunch.  I grab a Sierra Mist for sipping as Thursdays I don’t usually eat much.  Frankly, Thursdays I don’t usually do much of anything.  It’s a wonder I’m even out of the house.

I see Dr. Ch. and several of her nursing staff.  A couple of the nurses actually recognize me.  Sheila the NP greets me and then beelines her way to Dr. Ch. in the front of the room.  Kathy whispers, “Do you think she’s telling her you’re here?”  And I wonder the same thing..…or perhaps I’m being too overly self-centric here…

The presentation begins and the first slide starts out with… “51 year old patient” And I almost spit my soda out and up through my nose.  And all I could think about was that this was going to be a case study presentation of a HER2 positive breast cancer patient related to neoadjuvant therapy – and I was the case study! (Pretty certain there was some breach of HIPAA here).

It was hard to look at the “case” objectively.  Dispassionately.  To hear the facts without the emotions and experience behind them.  Their implications.  Their life altering projections.   I found I could only look at the slides.  I couldn't look at Dr. Ch.  My poor friend Kathy I think, may have been even more uncomfortable then I was.  “Do you want to leave?” she asked.  “No, it’s OK.”  I’m thinking, perhaps I will learn something here?

I didn’t learn anything.

Well that’s not true. 

I learned that radiation oncologists don’t know what to do if the neoadjuvant therapy actually works.  And I learned…ah, what did I learn?  That it is weird being talked about in the third person when one is sitting right there.  

I learned that the dispassionate facts are just that.  Dispassionate - without passion.  Without person.  Without presence.  So what’s it all about?  (And what is “it”?)

It’s about being present.  About being there.  About experiencing and doing the experience deeply.   It’s about embracing life and all that comes with it – the easy road and the hard.  It’s about holding on to the Grace of Jesus in order to experience, to live, with a hope of joy.  It’s about community and serving.  It’s about thankfulness. It’s about loving deeply and serving with abandon.  It's about forgiveness and grace.  It’s about being rightly focused.  Not self-focused – even though this trek makes one have to be more self-aware. Yet more aware of the Road, full of grace.

Today’s Journey Joys: On a Journey, there are times when one seems alone.  But there are other times when folks, dear folks, walk along side…if even for a short while…. and make the steep jagged road passable.  Or at least make it seem a little more doable.  I am thankful for those who are traveling (if only for a brief period of time) with me on this breast cancer journey:  Dr. Ch., Sheila, Faith, Julie, Lori and others – from my oncologist office.  I am thankful for their perseverance, their hope, smiles, expertise, and encouragement.   

Hardwood Flooring

Two more weeks of Taxol.   And a tiredness that sleep does not heal weighs heavily.  And even though the sun is bright, the temperatures crisp, and the day quiet, I simply want to rest. 

Perhaps it is the cold I started experiencing yesterday.  Stuffy nose and head.  Sneezing.

We've been working on getting the “other house” ready for sale. Two weeks ago we put in the hard maple wood flooring I ordered almost 14 years ago…. Yes, that’s right, 14 years ago.  I guess it took us awhile to finally get everything done (flooring goes in last, ya know).

Farmer husband Gary installing the first row.

Me stapling the flooring. Love that John Deere pink!

It’s a long, tedious, rather flexibility-challenging job.  Up. Down.  Pound. Tap.  Nail.  Not hard.  But long.  It took us probably 10 hours to complete.  Sure looks great now that it is in.  Just as I had imagined it.  Now, if we ever build our new home, I want more flooring like this in it.  Durable, easy to clean, and beautiful.  I’m pretty sure I will never find the deal I did in 2000 when I purchased it:  ¾ inch solid maple, 3 ¼ inch planks with aluminum oxide coating for finish for just over $2 a square foot.  It was a great deal.  I really like deals. 

This past weekend, after the carpet people came earlier in the week and installed the carpet, Gary and I installed the trim.  Well actually, Gary installed the trim.  I spackled, primed, sanded , and painted plinth blocks and trim.  I hope to sand the spackled trim next weekend and then put the final coat of paint on. Maybe that’s why I’m tired?  But I don’t think so.  Exercise is good.  Both for the body and the mind. 

Today’s Journey Joys: hatching eggs set, second leaves on tomatoes and peppers starts, aromatic coffee, almond M&Ms, automatic dishwashers, hugs from the ones I love.

Molting and Friends

 I took the opportunity today in our 50+ degree and sunny weather, to see the strawberries and pull a few winter weeds. Ah, it was good exercise on a day when my muscles are wobbly and my tummy is rumbly.

While out there a few of the chickens came to visit and gobble up seeds and uncover new emerging insects.  I think they feel safer when someone is with them.  The strawberry garden is quite out in the open.  This girl, poor thing.... she's molting.  I said to her, "Red, you're looking a little rough without any feathers."  She just looked at me with her head tilted to the side.  "You should talk!"  And I chuckled, for of course I do look a little funny without any hair.  And thankfully, both Red and I will one day be "adorned" again. She before me I'm afraid though.



On Tuesday my dear, dear friend Kathy came to visit me during my chemo infusion.  We laughed, and chatted, and connected.  It was thrilling to hear her adventures in Belize and her courage and faithfulness. She's amazing.  She would disagree,  I can hear her now, "You'd do it too, wouldn't you?"  Probably not, but maybe with her!

She encourages me. Helps ground me in Truth.  Prays.  And rejoices and cries with me.  When she left on Tuesday, before the medicine put me to lah-lah land, I told the nurse, "Kathy, she's the best.  She's closer than a sister, a great friend." Oh, and did I mention?  She makes the best Heath Bar cake! Yummy!

"A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother (a sister!)." (Proverbs 18:24 ESV)

Today's Journey Joys:  sister-friend love, strawberries still green and growing in early spring, warm sunshine (really!), brown and black fluffy roly poly caterpillar under bark, muscles that can still pull weeds.

Monday evenings

By Monday I am feeling almost "normal".  My appetite is better.  I am even hungry at times.  That is, there are moments in the day when the usual rumblings of the tummy tell me, "time to eat".  And those rumblings actually occur on Mondays.  The other days?  Well, they are either filled with rumblings of "you'd better not eat" or no sense at all.  When I must remind myself that I need to eat something in order to maintain strength and health.

By Monday my muscles are not so wobbly.  My brain seems sharper, albeit that is a relative statement. By Monday my energy level and stamina seem almost freeing.  Promises of days of vitality.

By Monday evening I even eat a cookie... and it tastes good.

But by Monday night the weekly remembrance that I will awaken to yet another chemo-filled-day steals away my sleep.  For I dread not the cancer destroying chemo in and of itself, but I dread the side effects of nausea, belly aches, muscle fatigue, increased night sweats, brain fog, and nasty tasting glutamine. Remembering this leads to an inability to sleep on Monday nights.  Yes, a reflection of the anxiety in my heart.  

Psalm 30:5b says "Weeping may tarry for the night but joy comes with the morning."

There is powerful truth here.  Farmer Husband Gary often reminds me when I'm struggling emotionally at the close of the day, "It'll be better in the morning." And usually it proves to be true.  The weariness of the mind, heart, and body at the close of the day warps the perception of reality.  But rest gives clarity. Perhaps that is why thanksgiving for "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise..." is the perfect prescription to combat anxiety... even chemo-derived anxieties.

Monday evenings are followed by Tuesday mornings.  Mornings in which I feel pretty good physically but pretty tired emotionally and mentally.  Yet I will walk into the infusion center in an hour or so with a smile for the staff and nurses.  Sit in my little reclining infusion chair and receive my five hours of medicine with a grateful heart. Truly thankful that it seems as though the large tumor is reducing in size.  And truly thankful and hopeful that any other little tumor cell in the body is also being reduced and eliminated as well.  

Today's Journey Joys: freedom and the privilege to vote in our state's primary, fat bandit-faced raccoon, more birds returning to sing in the morning chorus, Kathy-dear-friend coming to visit during chemo, peace - an amazing grace.

Wiggin' Out

On our way into Betty's Wigs 

Waiting a little nervously.... will the color be right?

Debi - my super helper!

Happy

Today's Journey Joys: I saw robins yesterday!  A good hair color, meetings from afar, sleeping in and rested. Ally says, "You look like my mommy again."

Brambles and Life

The girls and their white rooster escort are once again seeking the tasties that only a winter's thaw can give.  Locked up in their coop for week's on end due to snow, severe cold, and wind. They are eager.  They're pretty funny when they see snow.  Don't seem to want to touch the stuff.  If one of their little toes comes in contact with it they suddenly take flight and cackle along the way.  

But the snow is melting.  The 26 inches of frost giving way to muddy puddles and soggy soil.  The hoop house warm and expectant.  The garlic contemplating emergence. 

It's been a long, long winter.

Today's Journey Joys: celebrating Ally-girl's birthday with pink, strawberries, and Hello Kitty; morning star bright and clear (ok, it's a planet, but it sure shimmers brilliantly), life and activity returning to the farm, young man Ben releasing his 4000 lines of code for a worldwide audience on "Keen Day".

Creamy white

It's Tuesday morning.  The wintry-spring clouds hang low and gray-a-fy everything. Dirty piles of snow can be seen at corners of parking lots and edges of driveways where this winter's record snowfall has been pushed time and time again over the past four months.  I arrive early at the infusion center. Warm in my car with my e-Bible I blanket myself with His words of promise and of peace.  Periodically someone else pulls into the parking lot.  Time pressed staff barreling down past and behind the building.  Patients slowly and deliberately choosing a spot, as close to the entrance door as possible.

It's the patients who have my attention.  I didn't quite notice it at first.  Perhaps it was the repetition of the occurrence and the quietness in which I sat.  First, an older gentleman, I'd guess in his seventies.  He comes alone.  The minivan door slowly opens and he proceeds to climb out of the driver's seat.  He clicks his automatic door lock and then proceeds to the front door.  I see his face.  It is gray-white. Deep reflective eyes. He walks with a slightly wider stance than necessary. His feet come to a secure footing before he lifts the next tennis shoe covered foot.  It is a slightly undulating stroll.

The next was an older woman with a chemo identifying cap, driven by who I'm guessing is, her daughter.  The pasty white woman says not a word to her driver but proceeds to clamber out of the car and walk slowly towards the building.  Her steps are completely gravity-set before she too lifts her next foot. And on she walks.

And the next... and the next....white, grey, pasty, color-less complexion.  Little, if any hair. And this characteristic deliberate safe walk.

And I wonder, do I look like this?  No wonder people stare.

I look in the mirror,  No. Minutes before my ninth chemo I have some color. I even still have most of my eyebrows and eyelashes. And I think, I just walked 3/4 of a mile yesterday, albeit kinda slow.  But is that where I am heading?

My infusion seemed to go quick. Only 2.5 hours with a drug-induced 45 minute nap.  Next week is the long one again.

I say "goodbye" to all the wonderful nurses and walk towards the exit.  I have to go through the waiting room in order to reach the parking lot.  I see more faces of dulled complexions, deep welled eyes.  No one walking now, only waiting.

The sky is still gray and cloud covered as I place one foot in front of the other carefully making sure each foot placement is secure.  My medications make me a little buzzed and unsteady. I throw my blanket, juice cup, MP3 player and purse in the back seat.  When I get into the car I catch my breath.  For an instant I see my reflection in the rearview mirrow.

Yes, you guessed it.  Mayonnaise white.

"Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." Phillipians 4:8 (ESV)

Today's Journey Joys: melting snow, chickens free ranging again, Snowy's eye healing, Lynne's amazing pizza regatoni casserole, soul nourishment in the Word.

Weary & numb

I’m weary.  Too many thoughts, musings, concerns. 

I’m slowly, methodically, being submerged under responsibilities.  Unable to keep up.  Too fatigued to think clearly. Too tired to really make a difference.  My heart mulling this cancer journey.  Cold and numb. Feeling alone.

I stare at my work....  

Products, Pad Thai, and Friends

I tried to get “the product” today… that is, the wig to cover this poor cold balding head.  Bits and pieces of short little hairs still clinging to the scalp.  Fewer and fewer every day.  Sure makes shampooing easier. However, if any breeze blows over the scalp, whether inside or out….brrrr chilly. It would make the hairs of one's head stand….if I had any that is.

The “product” fit nicely and felt good.  Unfortunately it was way, way too blonde.  Almost bleached blonde.  I looked sick.  Felt a little sick too.  We tried on a different color.  Too much red.  Washed me out.  Found one that I think will be good. The color actually reminds me of a lighter version of my youngest sister’s hair color… well, before she started coloring.  So now Laurie, the nice wig lady, is ordering a new color of the wig I like and it should be here next week some time.  Another opportunity to spend time with my friend Debi. I don't know whether to be disappointed that I didn't get the wig today or simply celebrate that I had a great time with Debi and that I have another "excuse" to get together again. I think I will celebrate.

We had great conversations over shrimp pad thai and beef stroganoff.  I loved hearing her passion for servant leadership and for empowering others to serve.  Of serving others by teaching and leading.  Not by micromanaging but by building and instilling abilities (capabilities?) into the lives of those whom she serves. She is truly a gifted and amazing woman.  I love rubbing shoulders with the likes of her!

And more blessings!  Burt, a coworker of Farmer Husband Gary, made us this amazing lasagna soup for supper.  Spicy pork sausage, vegetables, tomatoes, and topped with provolone and mozzarella cheeses.  Oh! How scrumptious!  I can’t begin to communicate what a huge gift his meals have meant to me.  Although I think my family may never eat my cooking again! 

Today’s Journey Joys: sparkly jewelry, melting snow, black birds bravely sneaking food from the cat bowl, Debi’s laugh, and more rainbow promises on the wall – a reflection from who knows where?

Turkeys, flowers, and showers

Gobble, gobble, gobble.  Four toms and four hens. Every night, as evening fell, they would fly out of their coop and ten foot protective fence and land on the top of the children's swing set.  The girls would then take a flying leap to the roof of the house... Perching on the rain gutter or on the eaves until enough light in the morning would shine so that they could see to land.   And then every morning I would herd them up and coral them back to their coop. Needless to say the grass below the swing set will probably grow very well this year!  You'd think I'd just trim their wings so they couldn't fly.

Well those eight birds are in our freezer now and sadly I won't be getting anymore of these Bourbon Red heritage breed turkeys.  They are just to costly to raise.  If I ever do turkeys again it will probably be the broad breasted bronze or whites....but not this year. Too many unknowns.

I am trying very hard to scale back the farming this year.  It is hard.  I had plans last spring to plant a large beautiful perennial garden with foxglove, dianthus, lavender, campanula, and other lovely plants.  But when I found out that I had breast cancer.... I didn't order the plants.  I do have sunflower seeds, annual dianthus, and zinnias to plant.  We will at least have some flowers.  But the others will have to wait....

High of 16 degrees yesterday but I think we are on a warming trend.  Perhaps next weekend I can plant some greens and things in the hoop house.  Yet every plan is filtered through this strange journey of cancer and chemo.  How much energy do I have?  And is this where I want or should put it?

Today's Journey Joys: warming and sunny day, Burt's cookies, strategy of chess, worship music during chemo, crunchy green celery in tuna fish salad, warm caps for my cold head, and Ally-girl actually asking for a shower. :)