TRUST IN THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART,

And lean not on your own understanding;
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He shall make your path straight.

- Proverbs 3:5-6







Thursday, April 29, 2010

So We Wait

They say (whoever they are) that patience is a virtue. The Bible says, "But if we look forward to something we don't have, yet, we must wait with patience and confidence." Rom 8:24 . This is a challenge. Miss Holly maintains it's why our family was put on earth: to Learn Patience. This is particularly clear to me right now as the chemo is done and all the radiation, internal and external, is finished. Now, we wait. (It hit me like a moist dirt clod on my way home from the last procedure: "Crud, now I have to WAIT!" And with that thought came fear.) My next appointment is May 24th for an MRI* update. The next day is a round of doctor appointments to prepare me for the last surgery (maybe the following week) and give me a status report.

This month-long Rest is hard! Not because I have too much to do, which typifies my ordinary life, but because I have little I'm supposed to do and, therefore, all the time in the world to Imagine. While I have been planning fun stuff and making plans for trips and pleasant days with good friends I have, unfortunately, had ample time to "Imagine the Worst".

Doing is easier. I have trouble empathizing with folks who don't DO. Filling my day is REALLY easier. But not now when doing a load of clothes is a five step ordeal with multiple rest stops in between. Or when looking at the weeds in my flower beds is just an annoyance because bending over makes me dizzy. Or staying away from the storage room when the vacuum is calling my name (Don't worry, mama, I've taped its mouth shut).

I've got to say that this part of the process of healing and regaining strength to endure the final surgery calls for as much radical faith as the earlier portion when the hospital and extra unhappy sensations filled my days. Again, I'm left with too much opportunity to imagine. Oh. I get it. I can work on IMAGINING THE FINEST OUTCOME. I will immediately cover negativity with wonderful things and shut those "drunken monkeys on my shoulder" up with faithfully crafted pictures of the blessings of old age and good health and loving people and God's promise. This blog just helped me. Doing this blog helped fix and free my mind. Doing is still my friend.

So, if you can't reach me on the phone and wonder how I am, don't think I'm lonely or unwell or scared. Please, just imagine me reaching out to touch Jesus's hem or being lowered by people who love me through the roof just to be near His side or just imagine me claiming how strong and useful I am becoming as I grow to a ripe and scrappy old age knowing all the while that God is Taking Care of Me every every every day. Because that's what I'll be Doing. "You have allowed me to suffer much hardship, but You Will restore me to life, again, and lift me up from the depths of the earth." Ps 71:20

*Note: If you ever have to have an MRI just lie there and pretend you are a stationery component in a video game. There are all kinds of grinding and popping and clicking sounds from the machine similar to a video game and they usually have you listen to music on headphones so just pick a bouncy music like you'd hear in an arcade and lie there and make like a motherboard and it will help. Additional note: If the MRI requires a full bladder, don't let them use any "relaxing" music with water sounds (rain, a babbling brook, a WATERFALL). This will make your experience particularly unpleasant. Believe me. The techs and I both learned something that day.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Live Woman Walking

"Live Woman Walking!" is what I said as I left recovery suite #2 on Wednesday. "Live Woman Walking" ...not even needing a wheel chair like the four times before, but walking. I'm almost done with my tacky little "c" and all the long hours of discomfort. I have alot of Resting to do, still, and some check ups and blood lettings, probably, but I can do this. My next task may be to Release all the negativity and turn my memories into neutral observations. I will walk away from this not only alive, but improved, somehow. Just Watch Me.

I will also sit down and pray over every card and note and hand drawn picture I have received. One memory I will certainly never view as neutral is the overwhelming love of the people in my life. My acupuncturist, Melissa, has bent over backwards to provide me time. Our babysitter from when the kids were small came at SIX in the MORNING on Wednesday to hug me and pray with Howard and me. Overwhelming! My sisters drove for hours and hours to spend just about as many hours with me to smooch and pet and entertain. My daughters have shown up every chance they have had to fold my clothes or style my hair and my mother... I can not express to you or her the depth and breadth of my devotion to a woman who has taken her caring for me to a new unparalleled selfless level. I could not imagine. I don't want to imagine how horrid it would have been without her ever-present company and TLC. Of Course, Howard J. Honey lifts me and encourages me and makes me laugh and has been doing so for 30 years. And, then, there is my High Tower, my Comfort, my Counselor who is taking care of me.

(There's a video on youtube of the ribbon/chain cutting ceremony we held of cutting off my hospital bracelets. Search Live Woman Walking or check the link on Facebook.)

Friday, April 9, 2010

A truly lovely dinner

Last night, Howard J. Honey and I were treated to dinner by our wonderful friends, Mike and Susan Burkhart. It was a celebration of sorts because Peter Mayer is in town and we always appreciate his voice, spirit, and good-humored company. We went to Fusco's on the river and drank wine on the patio as the sun set and, then, went inside just for the Halibut. Our conversation drifted from how our children still (pleasantly) surprise us, how Pete's daughter, India is graduating high school and why-on-earth-did-Pete-encourage-his-kids-to-go-away-to-school to talking about God's strength being perfected in our weakness and blessings upon blessings upon blessings. I love the people I was with last night. Their openness and support and the opportunity to laugh out loud is an incredible priceless gift. I certainly love my husband. How hard this has all been for him. Atlas shrugged. So far, Howard has only fidgeted some.

Howard felt comfortable enough in our loving company last night, to reveal something I did not know: That my chances of overcoming the little c, statistically, were not good. News to me, but he has known from the beginning. Again, how hard has this been for him! But here is what is so about this: It doesn't matter what the statistics are. I am. And I am here if God wants me here and in Heaven if he doesn't. Those of you who know me know I always tout the Win-Win options. This is one of those. My sense is that I'm sticking to this earthly coil for awhile. Really. I have clear visions of opening Goodland's new campus. (I also have visions of grand babies, but they are more like the sugarplum dreams of Christmas Eve.) I like being here. I have work to do, people to love and be loved by, and joy to experience, but, frankly, either way, God is taking care of me.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Almost there...

At 5 in the a.m. tomorrow I get up and go to my second to the last surgery/radiation ordeal. Howard, my love, will be my escort to and mama, my rock, will keep me company for the duration. My radiological oncologist, Dr. Flynn, asked me at our last appointment to influence a woman who was scheduled to have brachytherapy which is what I've been undergoing, but was scared and thinking about backing out. I told Dr. Flynn I would talk to her if she wanted, but it would be a "qualified" endorsement. This procedure, as much as I'd like to sugar coat it, is pretty gruesome. One of the main reasons is I don't like anesthesia or its groggy aftermath, but, also, because it just plain hurts and floors me for days. I have to just keep that faith in God and know that he won't give me anything I can't handle.

So, I told Dr. Flynn I could definitely speak to the progress I've benefited from and which correlates to the treatment AND I had to tell this woman who was considering it that it was very unpleasant. I wondered if telling her the details of brachytherapy as I experienced them would give her some peace or totally send her running for the relative safety of NYC at 2 a.m., but I certainly didn't want to perpetrate a lie on a woman already pretty down.

Well, I got lucky... or maybe she did... or Dr.Flynn did... I don't know, but she decided on her own and I didn't have to speak to her at all. What's the point of this posting? I'm just typing to avoid going to bed. I dread tomorrow and, at the same time, know it'll all be a memory, soon. And, of course, God is taking care of me. I forget His Grace. When I remember it I feel so much better.