One of the special things marking today's Game Day so far is the ringing of bells and mini-parties going on throughout the day. I have heard one other (maybe) over the course of all 4 days but today there have been 5!! The parties and bells mark a patients last (and hopefully last EVER) chemotherapy treatment and the beginning of that highly sought after CANCER FREE status. It's an emotional day for the patient of course but for Kyle, it's a party she'd not be able to ever participate in before coming here. Her role in her previous setting was in providing medical care to patients who were either so ill that they would not likely ever leave the hospital again, or they were patients whose victory to be celebrated was that they just got to go home. When I started this journey, I was trying to focus on the fact that my story was already starting out with a probable happy ending. Stage 2-3. Great prognosis. YES I was going to lose my hair. Now I know that I will also be losing a couple of God given parts that will just have to be replaced. BUT I will be CANCER FREE. I will live to see my boys graduate from high school AND college if they so choose. I will be around to watch them fall in love, get married and have babies (God willing..in that order). I am able to work most days and still participate in my life to a good extent thus far. My situation, as it stands, is NOTHING compared to that of other women and men who were initially told, on D (diagnosis) Day that they needed to prepare for the worst; get their house in order; establish a plan for their family to live without them in the not to distant future. Kyle sees the difference now that she couldn't see before and she calls this place "Good for [her] soul".
She and the many others who have worked so hard to keep me smiling, and make this experience as palatable as possible are all examples of why this place has been good for mine as well. What kindness and compassion I have experienced from each and every single one of them! Amazing, phenomenal people. All of them.
But I'm not gonna lie. I'm tired. I am. My body is revolting against these meds and is reacting violently in some cases to the fact that I allow it to continue over and over again. It's not fun. At all.
Each treatment brings more extreme symptoms. Each symptom hangs on longer and longer.
But the few days leading up to the next infusion....I almost feel like me. Eating is pretty easy. The rashes that plague me, the fatigue, the bleeding gums and sore muscles and joints, the pain...everywhere...it subsides and that's helpful. Because it's easy to forget what it's like to feel normal when there are so many days that I don't.
So this morning, as I was showering and getting ready to make a day of it at KU, I had my music blaring (so loud that my amazing friend Angie who spent part of the day with me...had to use my garage code to get in because I wasn't answering the door. Sorry Ang!!--see image below and ignore my weird crazy eye thing I have going on...YIKES!),
I was dancing around (laugh if you must but you know we all do it), getting dressed and then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. And all I can say is that I just didn't feel like the person I saw in the mirror. I felt like me. And the me I felt like is supposed to have hair, and skin that feels normal and a body that should be responding to the good stuff I give it and the workouts I try to get in on the good days. But none of that stuff is true. And it's kind of like a punch in the stomach. But then I heard the words of my Father in my ears. Words that I would hear constantly if I would just shut up and listen. He tells me that I am HIS creation. That, at all the stages of my life including my awkward middle school stage and my baby teeth to grown up teeth stage and even this stage, He sees a princess. The daughter of the King. There is no fault found in me in His eyes since the day I accepted Jesus because He sees me only through the perfect blood of His Son that was provided so that I can know the greatness and purity of a love that can not be measured or even adequately described. The love that I feel for my own children cannot even compare to the love of my God for me.
So I made the effort today (I can't say I do every day). I was still. And I listened. And I let the truth come in. And it was a good feeling. And it was easier to put on a smile today and strike a goofy pose for Twitter. Because I WANT my life...in all of the good and the bad to speak to what is possible when Hope is present. Sadness and pain are part of all of this. But when Jesus is the source of my joy, no one, no drug, no diagnosis can take that from me. I don't think I always do a good job of letting that be the message. But I try.
I'm done now. Bag #7 has been hung, delivered and taken away. My port access has been undone. I am free to go. I know what the days ahead hold for me and it's not gonna be fun. But today my focus is on that crazy gorgeous day outside and the fact that since I don't have hair to get messed up, I can drive home with music blaring and windows rolled down ALL THE WAY!
God is still so good. And He loves me.
