Categories: Caring Bridge Journal
It is Friday afternoon, July 15th. I had chemotherapy this week beginning on Tuesday. I was in the doctor’s office that day from 9:45 am until 5 pm. Makes for a long day. I then came home with my infusion pump and it finished around noon yesterday. I unhooked myself at home, which involves administering a saline flush and a heparin flush of the line to the port-a-cath. The port is a small “button” (as we call it around here) that was inserted long ago just under my skin, and is located just below my right collarbone.
When I told the boys Monday night that I was going to the doctor the next day to get more medicine, Scott said, “That means I can only hug you on this side (holding out his right arm) not on this side” (holding out his left arm.) The other night when Camden prayed, he said his usual, “Please help Mommy feel better and be well” but then also added, “Please help Mommy be able to eat whatever she wants to eat.” Interesting what kids pick up on. We haven’t discussed my eating habits. He’s just noticed how difficult it is for me to eat for several days.
I continue to be astonished at the rising visit counter up there in the right corner of your screen. It boggles the mind that so many would be interested in how I am doing and/or what I have to say.
I have done fairly well with this round. The fatigue continues to be all-consuming, but the nausea is minimal as compared with FOLFIRI. That said, I have had one episode of seeing my dinner again a few hours after swallowing it. But one episode is highly preferable to multiple episodes. I am also dealing with a new side effect this time, called hand-foot syndrome. For most of yesterday I had fairly severe hand pain – my hands were bright red, as if blistered by the sun. The only things that brought relief were ice cold rags. Mom would bring me one damp rag from the freezer, I’d hold it in both hands in a prayer-type clasp, and then a couple of minutes later it would be warm from the heat of my hands and I’d be ready for the next one. Last night, the sensitivity also started on the bottoms of my feet. I finally broke down and took two of my old friends, percocet, and thankfully that took away all the pain during the night so that I could sleep. All of that is much better today though, and being able to type is a HUGE improvement. This side effect is from the pump medicine (not the study drug) and it may mean that we have to reduce the dose of that medicine in the next round(s). At this point, I’m not sure if I’m happy about that or not.
I type the above information in an effort to be “real,” to let you know about my physical condition because many of you have said it helps you to “know what to pray for.” I also realize someone may come across this blog who is also going to be treated for colon cancer and maybe knowing what I experienced may help in some way.
However, I really hate to always write “the heavy” as I call it. I am frequently reminded of others who have it much worse, and then I feel silly for complaining. And I also have realized lately that I have brought a lot of people to tears over the last several months – in several different avenues and places.
As much as I appreciate the tears of others, for they indicate the depth of emotions that have been stirred, I would really rather make people laugh. Really. I wish I was a humorous writer, but any “funny” that I have comes from a long-standing sarcastic, self-deprecating nature, and that just doesn’t seem to be too appropriate on here.
So, I have several different posts writing themselves in my head these days, but today I don’t want it to be so “heavy.” I just want to share a phrase with you that I came across a few months ago that has spoken volumes to me. You know how I like a well-turned phrase.
I thought it might grab your attention as well, if you are anything like me: perfectionist, addicted-to-the-to-do-list, wanna-be overachiever, task and goal oriented, etc, etc. If you are the stay at home mom who wonders if cleaning up children’s messes all day is really what you are meant to do. If you are the working-outside-the home mom who just can’t seem to get it all done. If you are a man who feels the pressures of the world on your shoulders.
It is simply this:
“Never tire of doing even the smallest things for God, because He isn’t impressed so much with the DIMENSIONS of our work, as with the LOVE in which it is done.”
Chew on that for a bit.
That’s why I said awhile back that I had housework to savor. This is how I’m trying to approach “normal” tasks these days: instead of resenting the laundry, I pour into it my love for my family and gratefulness that I have a family to clothe and that God has provided clothing. Instead of resenting that I have to reorganize the closets again to try to find room in this little house for our stuff, I savor the fact that God has so abundantly blessed us. Instead of hating having to make that second trip to the grocery store because I forgot something, I look to see who in that store needs a nice smile today and I feel love for my God who makes food so very accessible; who continues to provide our daily needs and who has granted me another day of life to care for my family.
“Never tire of doing even the smallest things for God, because He isn’t impressed so much with the dimensions of our work, as with the LOVE in which it is done.”
Just a thought I thought you might like…