Day 22
Chemo Day cycle 2
... the fight shoes...
Chemo cycle 2. I am grateful for these days, for it is a sign that I am progressing through treatment. Cycle 2 of 4 complete today. I missed seeing my friend, Karen... but we did catch up before- and she looked amazing with her sweet buzz cut and newsboy cap, with a tiny bow and her coordinating outfit. We hugged and chatted and I WISH we could have been together.
I chose the words carefully for these shoes. These are the words that I want to strive for, as I go through this process. STRENGTH is one of my favorite qualities... I yearn and strive to have STRENGTH.
I also wanted these shoes to have sparkle. Little girls love sparkle- I know my twins do- so I wanted these shoes to make me smile, when I put them on and when I looked down at them. I wanted people to notice the BLING... If I cannot sparkle, when I am feeling bad or sick or ill- I at least want my shoes to do some talking (sparkling!) for me.
This is a scary path. My greatest fear is dying... so I have to have COURAGE that this chemo, this journey that was chosen for me, is one that will take me back to - and actually to a new level of- health. I have to have COURAGE to do the things that I never wished to do, but that I do anyway. I strive to have courage, even when it isn't easy, even when it makes me cry.
Grace... it is not really something you can strive for... or really attain. It just happens to people. I am not sure it is really in me, or happening to me... I see it in others, surely. Yet, I hope to have grace, somehow, in all of this. I cannot TRY for Grace... I just know that is how I WISH to see myself.
Hope... I used to think that hope was a weak word. Hope was something that people did, when they didn't know how to work hard for something. I used to see no value in hope... but that has changed for me now. I see now, that when cancer - or illness- or wreckage of some kind in life - occurs, and when you are completely OUT OF ANY SEMBLANCE OF CONTROL over the outcome, hope becomes powerful. We cling to hope. I am CLINGING TO HOPE, to OPTIMISM, to the belief and to the conviction that the treatment I am doing is ENOUGH to gain me health, to get me strong and to cleanse my body of this disease. I HOPE to live and long and healthy life. I HOPE to see my children grow and blossom and become young women and someday, young mothers and I HOPE to be with them, loving them and helping them, if they wish for me to. Hope is powerful for me now...
Feet on the ground at the Siteman Cancer Center. My port has been accessed. I laughed and laughed with the woman drawing my blood. We laughed about my wound, We laughed about the fact she couldn't find her tape. We laughed about the fact that last time, when she asked about how they did it, I told her I couldn't remember because I was crying too hard. We laughed and laughed and she patted my hand... it was a delightful human interaction today (as it was last time, too... just much less sad today.)
I have no idea why I want to do these signs... but each night before my chemo, I take the time to color a little sign... I think I just want to document the day. Show the world that I am here... show myself and my kids and my people that I am progressing, show people ( and show myself ) the CHANGE in me, as time passes. What a DIFFERENCE 3 weeks make...
Pre-medications going in...
1) Aloxi - anti-nausea
2) Pepcid- antacid and stomach protector
3) Dexamethasone - steroid and inflammation inhibitor
4) Emend - powerful anti-nausea
5) Benadryl- powerful anti-histamine (and knock-out drug... makes me feel like I took a pitcher of martinis.... the Benadryl nap.... Zzzzzzz)
Port is accessed and meds going in. This still makes my head reel and spin, this still feels like a bad dream some days. How is this really me? My body? My life? I guess the pictures prove that it is.
Chemo chair in the POD...
My socks for the day. I don't feel strong - but when I look at them, I think of the AMAZING women who got them for me, who believe in me and who think I am strong. Saying it, seeing it on my feet, I think I can WILL IT...
I. AM. STRONG.
Playing in my ears... I asked all my warrior friends on my Facebook page to recommend music for me, and I have now the most epic inspirational and powerful play list. I turned it on today and drifted off to sleep - but I LOVED having the music to calm me and inspire me and SPEAK to me... And tomorrow and the next day and the next day, I will walk and move my body and listen to these songs and feel the LIFE and LOVE and SOUL in them, and invite them to HEAL me...
Sweet Ellis... Lives life in a whirl... Runs and leaps with joy... Smiles and lights up the room. Surprises me with a quick hug and breaks my heart in half with her sweetness... and the very next minute, she is stomping her little foot and screaming, "No!" She is wearing pink for Mama. This picture had me smiling all day. Thanks to sweet Lisa for sending it and getting the girls to do a video for me that made me cry and laugh, at the same time.
(( those socks, though...))
My Margaux... my love bug. The child who takes my hand (and so my heart), and looks into my eyes and says, "You are my Momma", and everything else falls away and she kisses my cheek and says, "Snuggle me, Momma" and I do and she sighs and tells me she loves me and I just never knew that I could be so blessed to have sweetness like this. I know these days, of her being so little, and adoring and sweet, are short-lived. But I thank God for them, for her, every single day.
Chemo is done. We are halfway to completion of this journey. This man - my husband- has stepped up and has touched me with his love and devotion. He has held me up and been my strength on the days I collapsed into despair... and he has shown me his vulnerable side as we cried together and raged at the unfairness of it all. He has moved money and made arrangements and has made sure that the family is ok... and he has laughed and laughed with me. He has set up this blog and emails... he has cooked and taken the girls outside. He has CARED for me like never before and I love him more deeply that I ever knew I could. I am not the same woman anymore - and yet, he still loves me, with scars, without hair, with ports and drains and nausea and grouchy days and tears. He loves me and this is the greatest gift. I only hope to love him back for many, many more years and repay him in laughter and hugs, snuggles on the couch and parent-teacher conferences together. If cancer has given me nothing else, it has given me THIS MAN'S HEART, in a more profound way than ever before. For this, I would do this again. For him, I would do this again.
(( isn't he the most handsome fellow, with his shiny head and his kind eyes??? Love him.))
The bell.
As I was walking out today, I allowed myself a brief look at the bell. I didn't read the words yet... and I won't. This gives me something to look forward to next time. But on my first chemo day, as I was waiting to go back... I heard someone ring the bell, breaking the hushed buzz of quiet with the loud peals of clangs. The room erupted in applause and I cried... I cried because I was there. I cried because I was scared. I cried because this person, whom I could not even see across the vast expanse of this room filled with cancer patients, had completed the chemo journey and was OFF TO LIVE THE REST of his or her life... but I also knew that this person would forever be changed by this and would never be entirely free of cancer. I cried for this person - and prayed- that he or she could ring that bell and NEVER COME BACK.. but always remember. The chills I got that day, hearing that bell for the first time, will be with me always. I am counting the days until I ring that bell myself.
I will read the words next time... letting myself believe that I too, will be OFF TO LIVE THE REST OF MY LIFE, when chemo is done.
42 more days.
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