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. :)

Cold and Hot

I’m cold.  Always cold….well, except for when the heat burns from within, rushing to the skin in a flash of overwhelming warmth.  Hot flashes.  Most interesting sensation.  Occurs within seconds.  Lasts minutes.  And leaves my skin damp and red.  Most unusual.  Happens mostly at night, which is unfortunate because it often wakes me up.  Fling the covers off; then fling them back on a few minutes later.   Roll over.  Go back to sleep. One of the side effects of chemo I s'pose.

Forgive me my dear menopausal friends for ever laughing when your skin turned red and dark and the sweat came off your brow.  When you grabbed a fan, or made one with your hand, in an attempt to cool yourself.  Forgive me. I was a fool.  I did not know how most unpleasant those sensations were. 

This winter has been oh-so-cold.  A record snow fall and more coming this weekend.  Polar vortex.  How do our Canadian friends stand this cold?  They must be made of sturdier stuff than this former Wisconsin native.  But at least the sky is sunny.  The daylight is longer.  The geese are returning (although I’m not sure why given the -4 morning temperature today.  Where do they land?).  And we are snuggled up in a cozy warm home. And most exciting of all, I will start the tomatoes and peppers this weekend. Look out Spring!

Today’s Journey Joys: bee’s wax melting in the make-shift light bulb melter, medications to soothe queasiness, son’s dramatic practice, Ally-girl full of giggles and surprise,  soft, thick flannel sheets, oh-so-cozy, and Frosty the cat with giant meows.

Oh where is my hairbrush?

"A hair in the head is worth two in the bush." (William Hazlitt)

December 2013 "before chemo"

The great hair cut.  It was a fun and "sassy" do.  I think I may go back to this when all is said and done.

But alas, six weeks of chemo and my "sassy" was gone.  Too many globs of hair in the shower, bed,
chair, shoulders, sweaters.... shall I go on?

No hiding with this! More gone every day.
The "wig" comes on Wednesday. 

"Mommy, you look weird." Ally said for the twentieth time.  I take a deep breath in.  Very cognizant of the fact that living with very little hair is strangely cold and odd.  "Yes, it is unusual not seeing girls with any hair." I reply again, for the twentieth time.  Inwardly feeling diminished somehow.

My friend Debi, who graciously has cut my hair twice now, accompanied me to the wig store.  At first I had difficulty even knowing what to do.  I mean really.  How does one go about putting a wig on?  Or choosing one?  I had these horrible visions of monster hair looking like an over sized carpet or animal on my head.  Yikes! But Lauri, the wig lady, was most gentle and gracious and knew her stuff.  She and Debi stepped me through the process of picking out a "product" which would suit me and with which I would be comfortable.  

I don't intend to wear it every day.  Probably just to church, certain occasions, and to work. In the meantime I either wear these super soft cotton caps (which really do make you look like a chemo patient) or my John Deere pink baseball cap....depends on how cold it is.

Learning to embrace the journey.

Today's Journey Joys: crystallized honey in the warmer, folded clothes, longer sunlight hours, a glider chair, warm showers, and a good night's sleep.

Winter's beauty

Today, a late winter snowy day.  Giant flakes leaving heavy white.

Prickly 

Stacked and piled high

Fun place to hide

Beautiful

 Today's Journey Joys: fat fluffy snow flakes piled high, flocking bright and white, plowed driveway, a much needed and refreshing afternoon nap, tomato soup, raspberry Greek yogurt, and egg friends.

What really matters

The only thing I want to do well is to do and be in God’s will.

Nothing else really matters.

God’s will, regardless of where it leads.  Regardless of the path, the obstacles, or the distance.

To do God’s will well. 

And this part of my life, in God’s will, there is breast cancer.  And as much as I do not like it, as much as I never truly imagined myself walking this road…. It is the road I am on. 

Others have different roads.  Some so terrifying I tremble.  Some so beautiful I laugh with joy. Some long, methodical, patient and gentle.  Some quick and bumpy, like spring waters noisily cascading over breaking ice shards. 

I’m on the fifty-something, mother-of-two-exceptional-teenagers, wife-to-a-wise-husband-and-counselor, small-fruit-and-vegetable-hard-working-farmer, graduate-professor, lover-of-green-and-colorful-warmth-and-flowers Road.  I’m on the how-real-and-sincere-and-tangible-is-your-faith Road? The Road with golden retriever shedding-like hair, dry itchy skin, gastrointestinal disturbances, emotional lability, and interrupted sleep.  The Road of unknown surgeries, unknown side effects, unknown abilities, unknown disabilities…and unknown future.

There comes a time in a journey, especially a long journey, when it seems like the only way one can continue is to focus on that next step.  Lift foot.  Stretch forward.  Place foot.  Repeat.  It may happen early.  It may occur unpredictably.  And although I understand that this fundamental movement is sometimes necessary – I don’t just want to endure the journey.  I want to embrace it.

Again, to do this… to do God’s will…. well.

How does one do that in the midst of weekly chemotherapy, side effects, blood work, and doctor visits?  In routine chores, car driving, children’s frenetic schedules, professional responsibilities, and life’s demands?  When one is suddenly and painfully aware of the steep bumpy road around her and the sore but calloused feet trudging down the path?  This journey is different. It isn’t surrounded by calm babbling brooks, wide paths, and clear blue skies. Unlike when life’s journey is predictable and calm, I must purposefully focus where to set my feet.

I keep coming back to I Thessalonians 5:16-18. “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

How can I be in God’s will on this particular Journey? 

Rejoice.  Pray.  Give thanks.

Each rooted in God’s indescribable grace. 

Rejoice.  Pray. Give thanks.

Sounds like an excellent walking song.....

Todays' Journey Joys: fluffy light snowfall, father-and-son robotics trip, deep green baby spinach with fresh cut aromatic strawberries, clean flannel sheets, Wii exercise with Ally, baptism weekend at church- witnessing transformation.

Hair

Well it is happening.  I was hoping, just hoping, that it might not.  So what that the literature says 96% of folks on taxol lose their hair........ but it's been hanging on now for over four weeks since the first treatment........and I was hoping.... hoping somehow to hang on to those hairs....

I ran my fingers through my hair in the shower today.  When I did I looked at my hands.... and there they were.  The first strands of hair.  Then more.  And still more.  By the time I was done showering I had to clean out the drain in order for the water to circle down.

Don't get me wrong.... it's not all gone.  And in fact if you didn't know... you'd just think I was having a bad hair day... sort of thinning like. But every time I touch my head, more strands.  And more....and still more.

Strangely upsetting.

Hair.  And hair loss.  Such an outward expression of an inward state.  It's one thing to have a port put in - I can cover that.  To lose weight - a few pounds wouldn't hurt me anyway.  But the hair?  Hmmmm....

A few crocodile tears today....

Today's Journey Joys: warm and comforting showers, bright sunlight on brilliant white snow drifts, apple wood smoke from the outdoor wood burning furnace, errands done, wise husband, blue jays singing, vacuum cleaners for hair loss, a scalp without pain, and grace.... abounding, layer upon layer... of God's amazing grace.

"For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace." (John 1:16).

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!