Thank you to all of my family and friends who have been following my blog and my progress through the rocky road of cancer treatments. You have made me feel cared for and that my life still has value and importance.
My wish for you
I wish all of you a joyous Christmas season and may the peaceful spirit of this Advent Season rest upon your home.
I have Christmas “off” so I can enjoy some quiet time with my husband. My next chemo is December 27th. After that I look forward to spending some time with my children and grandkids.
Last Wednesday, my husband and I made a trip to the closest cancer hospital to see an oncologist about the next step in my treatment. The doctor that we were booked to see had taken ill that day, so we were rescheduled to see another oncologist who is now taking over my treatments. We also learned that the former oncologist had planned radiation before surgery as the next step after my current chemotherapy treatment. The reasoning is that the doctors want to make sure that there is a clear margin of cancer-free skin for the surgeon to work with. The main issue is that the aggressive cancer that was growing in me had already spread to the skin. …
There are times that I am seeing life by looking at the edges rather than the whole. For example, rather than concentrate on the realty of cancer, and the daily fatigue, I am grateful that today I can walk. That is a precious gift. On Monday and Tuesday of this week my legs were so weak, I was shuffling, rather than walking. The nurse at the hospital told me that with the chemo-related leg weakness, I will need to hold on to stair railings and to be extra careful not to fall. Should I fall and break a leg, my treatment would be delayed until I healed. That would be bad news. So rather than expecting complete wholeness, I can be grateful for little things, like strength in my legs and the ability to walk. But I am also learning that there are spiritual edges to pay attention to. Not the whole picture, but what is highlighted for today. …
I can’t say enough about the support that my husband, Richard, has given me on this journey through cancer and chemotherapy.
We have cancer
The first time I heard my husband say this, I was surprised. But since he started expressing that “we” have cancer to our friends, relatives, as well as to me, my husband has followed through with his commitment to face cancer with me as a participant. He has been by my side when I was hospitalized. He even stayed with me in the hospital until 2 a.m. when my fever finally broke. He has been with me for every chemo infusion and each surgical procedure. He has been with me for every bump and turn on the road.
It also seems like my husband has experienced a lot of the same symptoms as I have experienced. When I experienced “chemo brain” (the inability to process more than one thought at a time, and the quick loss of memory), he was experiencing it right along with me. When I was tired and could hardly keep my eyes open, he too experienced tiredness and wanted to lay down beside me. I don’t blame my husband for experiencing tiredness as he went through many sleepless nights with me when I was unable to sleep. When I tossed and turned in bed, he would make sure I was okay. When I experienced excruciating pain and kept waking up to find my Tylenol or nerve pills for the chemo-related nerve damage in my legs, or when I was scrounging for Tums for the pain in my stomach, he was looking out for me. …
