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".