It's Sunday morning, COVID-style plus cancer. Pete and I
wake up slowly (there’s no hurry), then make some breakfast and watch
Nativity's worship service online. While we watch we pass the peace to friends
and family using our texting functions on our phones. We sing the songs, say
the prayers and listen to the message for today. Today, we are not particularly
inspired, but this routine is important to us. It's not what we long for but we
cling to what we can these days. We cling to the community of faithful
believers that we call Nativity, we cling to our faith, cling to our loved ones
and to each other. Indeed, Pete and I have taken to holding hands while we
listen, just to have that feeling of being truly connected to God's grace. This
is the raft we are hanging on to as we ride the waves of my breast cancer, of
the isolation of COVID-19 and the waves of political and racial unrest in our
nation.
Growing up next to the ocean, my experiences with waves were
early and many. Some waves are gentle and you just let your body go with it.
Some waves threaten to crush you. These are the ones you measure whether you
can outswim or whether you will dive right under. Some waves invite the challenge
of swimming fast enough to stay at the crest as long as possible. For me,
having breast cancer is like riding waves. Most of my time is spent discerning
how to ride the next wave out. The waves in this case, are the myriads of side
effects of the chemotherapy that must be endured or managed.
During my 4 treatments of AC Chemo (each 2 weeks apart in
June and July), my side effects included ruined taste buds, constipation,
diarrhea, excessive gas including hiccupping, sore feet and hands, sun rash,
yeast rash and a recurring bladder infection. I am pretty exhausted from the
constant dealing with one or the other of these things. And just as I am
recovering from those, I have already begun the Taxol treatments. Everyone
keeps saying that the Taxol treatments are easier to handle but that clearly
doesn't include the fact that I'm still on antibiotics for a bladder infection.
And all the antibiotics cause diarrhea and/or nausea. So the waves keep coming
in and I keep doing my best to discern the best course of action for comfort
and ease. I still have 11 weekly Taxol treatments to go.
Some of the waves come in the form of overwhelming emotion.
I feel weary and sorry for myself at times. I'm immensely lonely and yet have
no desire to risk more infection from gathering with friends. At the same time,
I’m overwhelmed by deep, deep gratitude for the incredible friends and family I
am blessed to have. Pete, in particular, has always been a miracle of love for
me and now is no exception. He keeps things going, takes care of my needs, does
all the shopping and somehow manages to stay excited about his garden. And
because there is time and cause, I also worry about the state of our nation. It
is hard not to notice the turmoil of the division and the coming election. All
these emotions, come in waves too, some with tears of joy, some with tears of
sorrow and occasionally a scream or two escapes my lips as I cry out to God for
help for all of us.
The thing about riding waves is that the water doesn't
intend to drown you. In fact, the buoyancy of water generally carries me and my
little raft, holding me gently as the energy of the waves rocks me. I think of
this as the Holy Spirit, the love of the Holy One holding me, carrying me along
even as I do my best to manage the waves. Deep below the surface God's grace is
holding me, whether I am capable of knowing it in the moment or not. This truth
sustains me even when I can't pray, even when I can't see what to do. And I
know that you all are part of bringing God's uplifting grace to me. Your notes
of encouragement, your prayers and songs on my behalf, and your love all help
keep me going and centered. So thank you for that. Trust me, it matters even
when there is only silence between us, just as it matters that the water will
carry this raft, even when I can no longer paddle.
So please keep the prayers coming because there are more
waves to come.
This is just a short update to let you all know I did make it home from the hospital on Saturday evening but not until I had a blood transfusion. This was a first for me and and interesting experience to see the bag full of someone else's blood going in. It was a good thing and helped me a lot. My thanks to all those who give blood to help others. I am extremely grateful.
Sunday was still a day of struggle but without that hospital visit and blood transfusion, I wouldn't have made it through yesterday. After a morning of diarrhea and some additional bladder pain, the antibiotics finally kicked in and things settled down. Sunday night I slept 9 hours. It was good! There is nothing like a great night of sleep for healing.
Today, Monday, has been much better day. I've had some energy to do things. I have had a better appetite and eaten better. My nurse reassured me in a call today that I would get better and that the next round would not be as hard. I am hopeful.
I go to bed tonight with hope, with prayers for continued healing, with gratitude for the hearts of so many who love and care for each other.
These two photos were taken from my hospital room at Southdale 12 hours apart, on my second night here. I was unable to take other pictures but inbetween those two photos, my window showed me quite a storm with lightning and rain and thunder and some sun glow even. This morning as I woke the words of this old spiritual came to me, "The Storm is passing over, the storm is passing over, the storm is passing over, alleluia." So last night's storm has passed and I hope that my personal little health storm has passed as well.
Wednesday, August 5th, I had my last(4th) AC Chemo treatment. I knew that the cumulative effect could make the days following harder then my other treatments. I was hopeful when Thursday, August 6th was a fabulous day for me. Then Friday, I started crashing, feeling exhausted. Saturday, Sunday and Monday were brutal days. Constipation, diarrhea, excessive hiccuping and burping, gas, poor appetite and neuropathy (fingertip pain) are among the side effects I was experiencing. I did slowly improve and thought I was going to be okay. But I wasn't. Wednesday was a hard day and Thursday I was still struggling. Thursday afternoon/evening, after another hard day, it was clear I had a fever and chills. We called the nurse and were told I needed to go in to the ER and be checked out. I went to the ER and was diagnosed with neutropenia, an extreme low white blood count. They started me on IV antibiotics right away and then ran tests to look for cause. I was admitted late that night to Southdale Hospital.
AC Chemo is known for causing the white count to dip but I guess I dipped a bit too low. As of this writing, they didn't find any cause. No COVID and no known bacteria, that I have heard yet. Evenso, my white blood count needs to be at a safe level for them to send me home. I am hoping that happens today. I am feeling much better. My diet has improved. My overall feeling is peaceful now. I hoping my storm has passed and I can go home and rest with ease again. I am hoping today is that day, the day my white blood count is high enough to go home. Cross your fingers.
Meantime, we've got others storms brewing in our world. So while we both wait, perhaps you'd like to listen to the song: The STORM is PASSING OVER. Enjoy!
Last week was supposed to be my off-week, my between week,
with time to recover from my last chemo and focus on other things but alas it
was not to be. I got a second bladder infection that lasted through the week as
the docs tried to find the right antibiotic for me. I finally got some Bactrim
on Friday afternoon and was on the mend quickly after that. I am fine now,
though the yeast rash persists.
Then yesterday, August 5th, something cool
happened. I had my last AC Chemo treatment! This is a good thing! (A for Adriamycin
and C for Cyclophosphamide).As usual, on
the day of chemo treatment, I felt pretty good. I was finally feeling energetic
and well on Tuesday and Wednesday this week. The treatment itself is not painful
and I haven’t had any nausea issues. The treatment room is quiet and peaceful with
nurses tending to their patients. I listen to music on my ear buds; usually
Luke playing piano. I do some puzzles and some writing or answering emails and
the two hours fly by. It’s weird to sit there and let someone inject toxins it
your bloodstream but it’s not painful for me.
And yet I’m thrilled to be done with AC! Over the course 8
weeks it has worn me down. Each time, I have moved to a more vulnerable place. For
me the side effects of AC were mostly fatigue
and a compromised immune system. It’s weird though, I was expecting colds and
flu and COVID-19. What I’ve had to deal with instead is constipation, bloating,
a yeast infection, a bladder infection and more recently a sun rash as AC makes
your skin really sensitive. In addition, I’ve had some unusual soreness on the
pads of my feet and after walking barefoot much of my life, this has been very
strange. With each physical annoyance, I’m learning again how very clever our
bodies are at taking care of themselves and healing themselves, often when we
are not even aware, that is, until that ability is taken away. And with each
physical annoyance, I am learning to respect how vulnerable I am right now. I
just need to leave room in my schedule for lots of rest between activity. Oh
and I did lose my hair after Chemo Treatment #2. So I’m experimenting with
varying headwear now.
I forgot to say, I saw my oncologist on Monday. She agreed
with me that the tumor has begun to respond to the treatment and is shrinking. (they
have not done another scan yet though) This is good news as I still have 3
months of treatment left to go.
I appreciate all the prayers and songs and love that are
helping me to stay in the game and helping that tumor to shrink…sooooo
grateful! Every prayer, every song, every kindness adds to the healing.
So now I get two weeks and then we start the Taxol treatment
which be weekly for 12 weeks. That will be another learning curve, easier in
some ways, harder in others. Theoretically, if all goes according to plan, Election
Day is November 3rd and the next day, November 4th, will
be my last chemotherapy treatment so I’m praying for good results in both cases
and I’m asking you to keep praying with me for both. Please pray with me!
Oh Holy One, work your healing love,
life and grace in us. Give us courage for what needs to be done to be part of
that healing. Give us wisdom and practical insight that we might know how to
work together, how to restore peace in our hearts, how to help others, how to
do our own work. Help us to rest when needed, to let ourselves be filled with
hope that we might wake ready to love through another day. Fill us with a
forgiving spirit that the hard times may become compost for growth and peace instead
of barriers. Protect us from being overwhelmed by loneliness and despair during
this time of distancing and division. Instead fill us with the truth that we
are never alone, ever. You are the source of all life and love. We place our
hope in you always. Amen
