Hidee ho. I am alive, and before I journal, a few quick shout outs.
To Janet Z., who has never known me to be brief, and still loves me with a vengeance.
To Cecilia, the “Kween” of Kefir and maker of shakes.
To Debbie H., who has traveled to the moon and back more than anyone I know. May she find the courage and fortitude to travel to me, so I can look into her eyes, hold her tight and say “I love you. You did it babe.”
To Saralene, who cooks to order, changes my ice before I ask, keeps the clothes washed before we have time to barely dirty more, keeps the “big boys” in French onion dip and Milos famous sweet tea, and loves our little ones and everyone else’s in the neighborhood like grandmother of the year.
To a sea of family and friends, who carry me through the torrent of this rageful and relentless disease…whose love, faith, strength, and hope help calm the waters and ease the journey.
As you read, it was a not so good experience…the chemo treatment. I discerned and deliberated a while before choosing to continue with the chemo, and I still feel I was right to try. But circumstances as they are, I believe the effects of the chemo will bring me down faster than the progression of the cancer. At my initial consult October 25, I weighed in at 99lbs. Home for a week, I tried to increase the amount and frequency of my foods. Yet, my stomach was/is still so hypersensitive. I reflected and remembered this feeling of complete exhaustion…depletion. I recalled the week I came home from the hospital after my hysterectomy in 2010. I weighed 106, and was a bare skeleton of fear, pain, and hopelessness. I could remember being doubled over my bed in anguish, not knowing how I could continue. So what was different? I did it then. I can do it again now.
For the week, I made progress. My eating increased and I felt better. Then for whatever reason the night before treatment, I became very ill to my stomach. I checked in for treatment the next morning weak and tearful and nauseous. I weighed in at 93 lbs. the nurses were so kind, and within the next hour, they had me feeling like a million bucks. Nothing like a couple of iv anti-nausea meds and iv fluids. I was almost deliriously thanking them for “saving” me. I was elated to feel relief and didn’t at all mind getting chemo. On the ride home, I felt ok. Then everything went downhill.
On Thursday, Gordon hit the scene wanting so badly to make things right. He offered to take me to the hospital for iv meds and fluids. I didn’t think I could even make the ride. By Friday, I wished I were dead…with nothing to live for and no hope in sight. This is where my hero steps in. For the entire weekend, Gordon did his best to attend to my needs as well as show the kids a perfect holiday weekend. He rallied the troops in scary wear, and trekked out for a Halloween adventure. On Saturday, he took Jack to Fairview to meet his friends from Memphis who were in town for a track meet. Then he gathered the two younger ones for a day hike at Natchez Trace with our neighbor friends. He retrieved Jack, and returned to spend precious quality time with Clayton on a scooter race through the neighborhood. On Sunday, he was back in action, cooking a buffet breakfast for the entire family. Then spent the afternoon playing with all the kids in the common area for a fun filled fall family day. Amazing. The kids are used to my being in bed from time to time. They would come see me briefly, and wish their condolences that I could not play too…but really they were so busy…they didn’t miss a beat. As it should be.
Luckily by Sunday, I was starting to “arise.” I had spent the past three days begging for mercy, asking God to deliver me from the hell hole I was in. I considered others who have had to undergo pain and suffering for much longer. Not that I am a comparer of pain and suffering and who deserves mercy, etc. I have spoken to this before. But I did find myself grateful that I was able to emerge in the typical 3/4 days. What was different? Why did I feel so badly this time?
I dove into my past, and had the pleasure of reading my past journal entries. Wow, what a great life I have had 🙂 and still do. As I read, I realized what it was. When I was first diagnosed, I was told that I could reach a curative state…remission for an extended period of time. Now I am told that I could MAYBE extend my life or reduce the adverse effects for the every progressing tumors, that now cover my entire abdomen like a sheath of gauze. Who knows? The doctors don’t. What I know is that this weekend was not living. It was barely subsisting. And the plan was to continue treatment 1x/week for three weeks, one week off, and then repeat if my blood work held up. At that rate, losing roughly 3-5lbs per week…I would slowly wither to nothingness. No.
One entry in my journal reminded me that my purpose on this earth is to allow the love of God to shine through me like a beacon of light, and to share this love with those on my path. I feel called to continue to be a beacon, and can only do this if I am truly living, engaging, and in relationship with others. Actually it is kind of cool. Being “really sick,” people who like to serve and help others are drawn to me. I am amazed at how many wonderful, giving, loving, generous, nurturing, caring, and on and on folks there are that I have had the pleasure of meeting. Plus all of my friends and family, old and new are very motivated to see me and spend time with me and help me in any way they can. I know it sounds weird, but in some ways…some days…my life just keeps getting better.
Another entry reminded me that in order to live, I have to get up. Yes, out of bed. Since this past round of chemo, I have been limited to walking the distance of my bedroom (with assist!). I have chairs positioned to take rests from the bed, to the sink, to the commode. Today, I met with a PT who started me on my own “insanity” work out. It combines a warm up of 10 arm circles, and leg swings; followed by an intense 3 sets of 3 sit to stands/3 wall push ups/3 ab resistant holds. And he won’t even let me sit down between reps. It really is sad, but I am motivated to be able to walk down my stairs and out of this house!!!! He told me, “Do not be a prisoner to the fatigue,” my new mantra….not to out shadow my ever present mantra of “God is my everything!”
I know that this entry is probably most self indulgent, but I have reached a new place in my life. This mortality thing is staring me in the face hard and firm. I am not scared, but I am keenly aware and observant. It helps me so much to be able to write my feelings out, and with my deconditioned body, these thoughts have been swirling around for days. I literally was unable to sit up long enough to get them online. For those of you who have moments where you are TOO MUCH in your head…this is really a curse for me now. I have this body that won’t do much of anything, but a mind that is non stop.
Ok, I am tired of writing now. I am sure you are tired of reading if you have even gotten this far.
I say it every time and will continue to do so. Please keep writing, calling, texting, visiting, posting, etc. Your words, prayers and thoughts mean more to me now than every before.
Love forever and always,
Peri