RIDING THE WAVES

 
Sunday, August 23

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.