He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40: 29-31, NIV)
There
are times in which I do not think I can stand this cancer treatment another
minute. Like during the last two weeks
when the exhaustion never let up till the day before the next chemo
appointment. But then, God always shows
up to encourage me and remind me that I can trust Him.
He
shows up in a variety of ways. One is through
family and friends. My daughter checking
in with me every day. My neighbor
rescuing me in my “out of cold brew coffee day.” The lovely family dinner Thursday night (July 28)
to celebrate Josiah’s first birthday.
Cards, texts, emails, Facebook comments, phone calls, errands run, food
brought, lawn mowed, visits: all of
these cheer me immensely.
And
then there was Tuesday, July 26, when I had a whole day of feeling good. I went to K-Mart and to Billie’s Health Food
Store that morning to pick up various items.
It felt so good to drive my car again and do something normal. After napping and resting for the afternoon,
I went to the Women’s Cancer Support Group at Hopestone. There were ten of us total, some current
cancer patients, other cancer survivors.
We each shared as much or as little of our stories as we wished and we
learned from each other. There were a
few tears and a lot of laughter. At the
end, I felt encouraged, especially by the presence of several stage III breast
cancer survivors (one 10 years and the other 25 years, I believe). From there, I went over to visit my family across
the street. I had not seen the
grandchildren in a week, and it was a lovely reunion.
And
then, the next day, Dana and I headed off in the rain for my OCSRI Tulsa
appointment: blood draw, consultation
with Dr. Moussa’s nurse, Deb, and chemotherapy.
My daughter is such good company; plus, she is my determined advocate and
“rememberer” of all the things I want to do but tend to forget, like having my
picture taken in the treatment room and stopping everything to pray with me and the
nurse before the first of the
two chemo drugs.
After
a long time with Deb discussing my two weeks of exhaustion and one day of
confusion (which Dana documented quite well), we came to a decision: cut the chemo dosage by 20% this time and go
in to see her next week so she can evaluate in person how I’m doing. I finally remembered to ask, since no one had
volunteered the information up to this point, what stage my cancer is. She was a little surprised I didn’t know,
checked the front of my chart, and said, “Stage IIIb.”
From
the consultation we headed to the treatment room. We were directed to a cubicle and got settled
in for the three-hour infusion. Each
time we have been in a different section of the room, and each time we have had
a different nurse. All of them have been
exceptional.
I
knew we were in for an extra treat when Wednesday’s nurse took special note of
my prayer quilt and started sharing about Christ. As she got things set up, she talked, looking
straight into my eyes and sharing her own experiences of healing and comfort. Her smile radiated love and joy. As Dana and I listened to her and shared some
of our faith as well, we were buoyed up by the Holy Spirit. Our nurse had plenty of other patients to
attend to, and every time she returned for the next task in our cubicle, she
continued to share. There was nothing
off-putting about it. Her words, her
smile, and her joy brought peace. One of
the scriptures she talked about was Isaiah 40:31. Near the end of the treatment
time, she asked if she could give me a little book and a small square quilt
made and prayed over by her church.
Safely
arrived at home an hour and a half later, I bid good-bye to my sweet daughter
and silently prayed for her to have strength.
While I would retreat into my quiet living room to rest, she would go
straight from being my helper for the day to tending to her family’s
needs.
The
mailman and someone else had left their offerings on my porch. There was a box, two packages in the door, a
WalMart bag with a wrapped present hanging from the door, and a greeting card
in the mailbox. The box had the sharpies
disposal unit I had ordered for my Neulasta pumps. The packages were for my son’s birthday next
week, and the card was from my Sunday School class. The wrapped present was a devotional coloring
book. Joan’s note inside said she would
be praying Isaiah 40:29-31 for me this week.
The
aftermath of Wednesday’s treatment is hitting harder today (Saturday). But when I am weak, He is strong.
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