Getting the Hang of It

Perhaps I am finally getting the hang of it.

Yesterday was my infusion. Today I am fatigued, both body and brain. I’ve had a long day alone at home, which is what I needed though not exactly what I wanted.

But today, the “hang of it” was moving around more. Besides the usual time in my recliner, plus a 1⁺ hour nap, I did little things that took less than five minutes before going back to sit. You know, putting things away, taking care of the trash, starting the dishwasher. I even took a walk most of the way down the block. There was no strain, just the gain of feeling like I was accomplishing something.

The brain fatigue seems worse than usual, though it did not keep me from Bible reading/brief journaling. And it is not keeping me from writing this blog post. But now I am ready to return to my recliner.

Catching Up

A couple surprising things happened last Monday.

Let’s start with the red pickup rental. Somehow, over the weekend of not going anywhere, my fear of driving the truck disappeared. However, I still wanted to return it for a few reasons. One, I had to pull myself up by the steering wheel to get in. Two, it barely fit in my garage. And three, its gas mileage was not great by my standards.

So, I returned it, exchanging it for a 2025 Toyota Rav 4. The car rental place here is a small operation that appears to do a brisk business, so there was no choice on my part but to accept what was offered. I would have preferred a regular sedan or compact, but at least I’m comfortable driving an SUV, and it gets good gas mileage. However, it presented a problem that I reported the next day: at 49 mph, it shimmies rather badly. Because of the amount of dried mud on the frame inside the back doors, I wondered if the previous customer had driven it in some rugged, muddy conditions. But since I was not offered another vehicle, I’ve simply kept the speed down. Not a problem except for the drive out to my daughter’s house, which involves a stretch of two-lane highway with a speed limit of 65 mph. Fortunately, there was not much traffic the two times I went there—just a few vehicles were anxious to get past me each time.

The second surprising thing is that on Monday my pre-stage IV cancer energy level suddenly returned. I woke up that morning feeling normal. I measure my energy by how much I can do in a day. Remember that after my first infusion in October, I chose not to drive because it used too much of my energy. Eventually, I came to the point that a week after an infusion, I could do a brief errand most days. And now? Well, I’ve driven my son to and from work each day, plus doing errands, even grocery shopping alone. On Thursday afternoon, I hit a wall, so to speak, and suddenly became exhausted. So, I rested up the rest of the day and took it easy on Friday as well. I was back to this new normal by Saturday morning.

And I expect to stay there until I have my next infusion this coming Thursday. Then, I’ll hang around at home for a few days to a week until the side effects subside. What a beautiful gift it is to be able to do normal, everyday things again at my former pace.

  

Overwhelmed

Forty-five years ago, I sometimes drove my husband’s truck. If my memory serves me right, it was a 1962 Chevrolet, manual transmission. Obviously, no power steering. I even managed to drive it when close to nine months pregnant. It was a close fit, with my belly touching the giant steering wheel so I could reach the pedals. No problem.

Yesterday, though, picking up a rental vehicle just about did me in. State Farm had requested a sedan, but Enterprise gave me a “small” truck, saying that was all they had. And not just any truck, and certainly not “small” by my reckoning. It was a brand new (the odometer showed less than 400 miles), bright red Nissan Frontier. Anyone else would be thrilled to drive it. But not me.

It did not help that rain was pouring down right after I drove it off the lot. I thought I would be okay. But in just a few minutes I was panicked. This monster of a truck was simply too big for me to ever feel comfortable driving it. Within a few minutes, I was ready to take it back. I should have done so; after all, there were twenty minutes left until the Enterprise office closed for the weekend. (Now, who has ever heard of a car rental business—in fact, the only one in Bartlesville—closed on weekends?) But I was already late for picking up my son from work. And I quickly decided that Joseph would not drive the truck—he’s only had his license for a couple years and has no truck experience.

By the time I got home, I was pretty much an emotional wreck. And then I had to get it in my garage. It barely fit. By the time I turned off the engine, I had decided that the next time I would drive it would be Monday morning to return it and request a sedan. So much for the in-person car shopping I had planned to start over the weekend.

I am scared to drive that monster truck again. Afraid I will do something wrong and get a scratch on the gleaming surface. Or that it will hail, and I will be liable for the damage (yes, that is the policy). I’ve lost my nerve.

I’ve spent the day relaxing. I’m over the flu, and the side effects from last week’s infusion have subsided. I’m resting up for Monday morning’s drive back to Enterprise. There is no way I am going to drive that truck to church tomorrow, especially since thunderstorms are in the forecast.

Maybe it’s kind of weird that having stage IV cancer does not overwhelm me, but the prospect of driving that truck does. I’ll be in the market for a compact or a subcompact car.

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!