Brain Fog

 So, it turns out that chemo/immunotherapy side effects plus stress plus stomach flu is a bad combination.

The additional stress arrived Monday evening with my son’s car accident less than a block from home. The intersection of Sooner and Brentwood is tricky due to cars parked on a short driveway on Brentwood that blocks your view of oncoming traffic. Joseph failed to yield at the yield sign, though he was going slowly. A truck came barreling down Brentwood going well over the speed limit and crashed into the driver’s side front of the car. The truck stopped for a few seconds and then took off. I don’t know the details, but that driver was arrested shortly thereafter. My 2007 Ford Focus was totaled, but fortunately Joseph was not seriously hurt, just some muscle pain in his neck and shoulders. (He was checked over in the ER.)

Some of you may or may not know that only a year ago, on March 19, 2025, I was T-boned at a busy intersection near Walmart, which totaled my 2021 Chevy Trax . . . but I was not hurt, just shaken up. I have a feeling that my car insurance premiums are going to go up.

A short-lived stomach flu arrived Tuesday evening. On Wednesday I was able to eat crackers and chicken noodle soup. Today, I’m doing better and have just eaten a regular meal.

The part that is not better is my brain. I’m not processing information very well and naturally I cannot think of an easy-to-explain example. But by tomorrow, when a rental car becomes available, I should be able to drive it.

My late sister used to say that pain medication for her migraines dropped her IQ by ten or so points, and that seems to be what last week’s cancer treatment plus stress plus stomach flu have done for me! I do pray that God will help me make good decisions as I start car shopping next week.

Here’s what I am thankful for: that Joseph was not injured. That my next-door neighbor provided his Ring video of the accident to the police. That Shawn, my son-in-law, has been providing transportation to and from work for Joseph. That Alice, my across-the-street neighbor, picked up a few things for me at the store yesterday. That Hopestone’s meal delivery yesterday included homemade chicken noodle soup. And soon I hope to be grateful for a less foggy brain.

 

Side Effects

Wham!!

That’s how last week’s infusion hit me. Fatigue, brain fog, head buzzing, sound sensitivity, and imbalance all played their part. I feel like a cancer patient again.

It turns out that the extra week off treatments is enough time to make me forget the side effects of my miracle drug, Trodelvy, which is handily keeping the cancer at bay and thus extending my life. While it is true that all the above side effects hang around in real time, they get more muted by that third week of respite.

Today is Monday, and the infusion was on Thursday. I’m able to be up and around a bit more, but the off-balance feeling and head buzzing (tinnitus), sound sensitivity, brain fog, and fatigue linger on in their enhanced state. Hopefully they will mute more in the next few days. Oops, I forgot the two that show up on the Sundays after treatment and linger for a while: wobbly knees and shaky hands.

So, I’m not doing much, just little bits here and there, punctuated by more recliner time and usually a silent hour lying down in my darkened bedroom. The sensory stress sends me there if not the fatigue.

And then I start to feel the disconnect between God’s constant care and my lack of motivation. Am I simply wasting precious hours alone here in my house? I think of people who spend their time completing a bucket list of things to do before they die and realize I don’t even have a bucket list other than wanting to declutter my house. Well, that’s not quite true. I also want to spend one-on-one time with my grandchildren, but that requires energy I still do not have.

There are also writing projects that sit, waiting for my efforts. I’m lucky to keep up with blog and church newsletter. Okay, now I’m starting to sound whiny. Enough of that!

I guess the point is wanting to be useful, for my daily life to count for something. But right now, the head buzzing is loud enough that I need to lie down for a while and just relax. 

Intersection

I always find it interesting when my daily Bible reading intersects with something in the secular world. Such was the case today.

Psalm 13 begins with lament and ends with rejoicing. Verse 2 says this: “How long must I suffer anguish in my soul, grief in my heart, day and night?”

In 1991, as a newly divorced mother of two children, that verse described my daily inner experience. I was overwhelmed with the responsibility of raising my kids alone, emotionally burdened with unresolved trauma, and unknowingly deeply depressed. This was all despite recently coming back to faith in Jesus Christ. I continued in that state, ever leaning on Jesus but still depressed, for years.

But in the past decade or so, my inner reality has profoundly changed from despair to hope. Yes, I still deal with depression of a milder sort. Lack of motivation to do things and fatigue seem to go hand in hand with depression and with chronic illness. However, verses 5-6 are now true in my life: “But for my part I trust in thy true love. My heart shall rejoice, for thou hast set me free. I will sing to the LORD, who has granted all my desire.”

I don’t know how to explain that change, except to say that over the years I kept seeking, and God kept leading me into more healing. Not to say I’ve reached complete healing: I have not. (And who has, this side of heaven?) But through his generous grace, he has brought peace and joy into my life.

Later this morning, a magazine article I almost scrolled past on my phone turned out to be an intersection of Psalm 13 with the secular world. This statement stood out to me:

. . . being reliably held by someone else makes it possible to relax into oneself. It creates enough internal safety to play, to improvise, to stay present without constant supervision. Over time, that experience of being accompanied continues inwardly, becoming a way of being with oneself. *

Let me explain. According to the article, “being held” means having others in your life who are dependable and supportive. It means not feeling like you are the only one who is holding things together, not being hypervigilant. It allows you to relax, to be fully in the present moment, and to be friends, so to speak, with solitude.

Here’s the thing. It’s not only people that can hold us. God does. Both are important.

I am blessed to have people in my life who are holding me during this cancer journey. My son who lives with me. My daughter, son-in-law, and their children. My church family. My blog readers. Excellent doctors and nurses. Hopestone Cancer Support Center supplying home-cooked meals. Elder Care housekeeping. Friends. People, known and unknown, who pray for me. I appreciate them. They make my life richer and easier.

But without God holding me as well, I would not have inner peace and joy regardless of my circumstances. I am grateful beyond words.

*Donald Winnicott, quoted by Elizabeth Burns Dyer in psyche: know your self, “The capacity to be alone depends on the sense of being held.” 27 March 2026.

Results

Yesterday, I had my fourth PET scan. Previous ones were in August 2024 and September & December 2025. These are standard fare for me now, every three months. On the drive to Tulsa, I admitted to Bev that I had some anxiety over what the results would be.

Today, the first verse in my daily Psalm reading gave me comfort: “In the Lord I have found my refuge.” I journaled briefly:

I had some anxiety yesterday over my PET scan that lingers today: fear over the possible results. What if the scan shows active cancer? Here’s the answer: God will be with me. If the results are good, God will be with me. He has seen me through so much in my life. I can trust him; he is my ever-present help in trouble and my refuge. (Psalm 11:1a)

Early this evening, my scan results showed up in my patient portal:  all clear. I am thankful!

March 17th and 19th

Last week, I sensed a nudge to start reading and reflecting on a Psalm a day, adding that to my daily practice of a brief New Testament reading in my English Standard Version journal Bible. I’m using the New English Bible translation for the Psalm readings, one that my mother loved, and was also used in the New Testament class I took so many years ago at Grinnell College.

The language used in the Psalms is beautifully poetic. And I have always loved the Psalms anyway.

At Christmas, my daughter gave me a journal and mug, each with a Monet print on them, so using the journal for my reflections is extra special, too.

I found out right away that I cannot read my NEB Bible at the dining room table because the light is not bright enough, so I sit in my recliner (also a gift from Dana and Shawn) where I have a bright reading lamp.

That little bit of extra time in God’s Word each day yields so much peace. I’m grateful to be able to relax, read, and reflect. And pray.

 

My head is buzzy today. The tinnitus is doing its thing. I’m a little off balance (and I’m sure my brother John would say I’ve always been that way!) And I’m extra sensitive to sound.

Regardless, I slowly and carefully took a walk down the block this afternoon, enjoying the hot sun on my back. (Eighty degrees today.) Just before that, I took out the trash and put my sheets in the washer. And just before that, I reclined in my chair and scrolled Facebook after lying down in bed for close to an hour. And before that, I played some Kindle games.

Which takes me back to this morning. I had an appointment with Hearing Life to get my hearing aids cleaned and have a hearing test. I realize that the purpose really is to sell me new hearing aids—my current pair dates back to the spring of 2017.

Before that appointment, I realized that I wanted to be snarky about my cancer in a passive-aggressive sort of way to get out of the usual sales pitch. (And this, despite praying most days that God would use me to show kindness and spread joy.) He so gently helped me note my bad attitude and I repented.

Naturally, the cancer is immediately apparent due to the cap that covers my bald head. I learned that the audiologist has an aunt with stage IV cancer and is doing well with her treatment, too. (So happy that my snarkiness had been dealt with and put aside earlier.) We did the hearing test and, though my hearing is much the same as it was last time, my hearing aids are worse. The microphones are gradually going out, causing some static. She told me about the hearing aids she put in my ears right after the test (standard procedure), which worked really well, and then explained the current discounts that would bring the price down from $9,000 to $6,000. I explained, nicely, that there was no way I could afford them or the convenient $276 per month payment plan. To my surprise, she dropped the sales pitch immediately. I really appreciated that.

From there I did a quick Aldi run, limiting myself to two shopping bags’ worth. Then I drove on home, put the groceries away, ate an early lunch, and rested in my recliner.

But here is what I intended to write about: the intersection of various health issues and how I cannot tell which one is acting up on any given day. With cancer, fibromyalgia, and diabetes to choose from, I’m hard pressed to say. I’ll guess that all three contribute.

Since my treatment a week ago, I’ve been discouraged with my lack of motivation, how little I am doing, and how much my brain and body just need to chill. Yes, today I did more than usual. But it still was not much. I’m hoping I will have more energy in the two weeks between now and my next treatment.

In the meantime, I am going to try for a little more physical activity each day and remember to be gentle with myself.

  

Good News!

Yesterday (March 11) I had my regular labs and appointment with my oncologist, Dr. Moussa. He had some good news for me. Because the Trodelvy infusions are working very well, he is placing me on maintenance treatment. What does that mean?

Instead of receiving two treatments plus an injection to boost white blood cell count within each 21-day cycle, I will now receive just one treatment every three weeks. What that means is I will have two weeks off each cycle, which is likely to yield less fatigue and more energy for me. More feeling good days.

At my next appointment with him on April 1, I will also have another PET scan.

Think about it: today, I had my treatment here in Bartlesville as usual. The next time I will have a treatment will be April 2. Wow!

Thank you, God, for how well my treatments are working. Thank you!!

Yesterday

After a week of being home trying to avoid outdoors because of my cedar pollen allergy (and because my son needs the car for his afternoon part-time job), I was ready to get out of the house.

In the morning, I went to the pharmacy to pick up some more 12-hour Sudafed. Okay, not exactly the most exciting thing, you may think but think again. I took great delight in driving to CVS, in browsing in the store, and in traveling on to Jude’s, where I ordered my favorite protein coffee drink to go: Java Monkey.

Pretty much since the fall of 2024, I have limited such outings to one in a day because that is all I have had the energy to do. But yesterday turned out to be different.

Joseph and I went grocery shopping in the afternoon: first to Aldi and then to Walmart. As usual, I went back out to the car when we were ready to check out while he took care of the rest. We even stopped by Braum’s on the way home, me for the ice cream cone I had been craving for weeks and him for a sandwich and drink.

I even did all the driving.

Was I tired when we got home? Yes. Was I happy? Yes. Did I experience any ill effects from more exertion than usual? No.

I am so grateful to have been able to do much more than I usually can. It’s quite amazing how enjoyable simple errands can be when they have been out of reach for a long time.