The Panda and the Pillow

 Since September started, the panda and the pillow have adorned my recliner: panda to my left and pillow to my right. Along with the ergonomic lower back pillow behind me and the super-soft fleece blanket over my lap, I’m well tucked in.

My granddaughters felt that I needed a stuffed animal to hug. Panda started out perched on the left armrest but soon found her proper place slid down to the side where my arm drapes over her. Occasionally, I must adjust her, pulling her up out of the grip of the chair.

The small rectangular pillow came from Hopestone. After my mastectomy, I found that placing the pillow between my upper arm and body worked like a charm for relieving some of the muscle pain. For the first weeks after surgery, the pillow traveled with me throughout the house and even to bed at night for a little extra support. By the end of September, though, it found its permanent spot tucked against the right armrest.

I like to snuggle into my recliner early each morning and listen to music. With a cotton cap on my head to make earphones more comfortable, I plug them into my Kindle, recline to a perfect position, pull the blanket up over my arms and shoulders, and put my arms down by my sides with my hands slightly curved around Panda and pillow. So comfy!

Last night, I wondered if it was time to retire Panda and pillow from the chair. So, this morning I settled in to listen to music covered up with my blanket. It just wasn’t the same. When I’m reading or playing Scrabble, Mah Jong, or Solitaire, perhaps Panda and pillow can have a break. But morning dozing still requires their presence.

Musings

 When my son gets home from work after 3 pm, I will take the car and go grocery shopping at Walmart. The last time I drove myself anywhere was on November 5.

I made it through the pain phase and successfully weaned myself off the pain medication which, I thought, would mean going places again. Not so. Fatigue has refused to leave and keeps me home. You see, Joseph and I share my car. Having the car for the day requires me dropping him off at work or school in the morning and picking him up at the end of the day. That sounds too strenuous to me.

In the past couple weeks, my sleeping schedule has shifted due to a big eczema outbreak. It’s hard to go to sleep and stay asleep at night due to extreme itching. (I think I’ve tried every remedy there is. Applying a cold damp washcloth to the itching area for 5-10 minutes seems to work the best, but have you ever tried to sleep with a cold washcloth on your arm?) It turns out that my best time for sleep is all morning. After an early morning light breakfast and an hour or so listening to music as I relax in my recliner, I go back to bed.

There in bed this morning, I mused about mitochondria, which provide energy to cells. (Don’t worry, this is as close to biology as I get. You can Google the term and find an incomprehensible definition--for non-science majors, that is.) I began to imagine my personal mitochondria cell factories operating at sub-optimal levels since chemo began. Are they understaffed? Or lobbying for better working conditions? Workers’ complaints about the unknown force (chemo) that interferes with their best efforts have not been addressed by management. In my imagination, the workers look just like the ones in Despicable Me.

Okay, so that was a rabbit trail.

Here is what all this staying home and being so tired makes me think about: the many people who are stuck at home due to things beyond their control. A phone call or a visit means the world. Make the phone call, do the visit and brighten their worlds.

And here is another thing to remember when life slows down due to illness: be grateful for the little bits that you can do and be kind to yourself.

p.s. I slogged through the Walmart crowds wearing my mask. The cashier at the less than 20 items lane was very nice and loaded my cart for me. Joseph unloaded the car and put the groceries away. I’m all done in. My expedition this afternoon was a little more than I should have done, but now I can rest and count my blessings.

Notes

November 15

Earlier this week, I gave up on trying to use the pain medicine the doctor ordered. I couldn’t stand the zombie feeling it gave me during the day, and at night it kept me awake. So, I made my request and disposed of the pricey Vicodin at the pharmacy when I picked up the inexpensive Tylenol #3.

That change did not yield the title of game changer, but it was a step in the right direction. My body’s response to chemo seems to be an ever-changing landscape. New things keep popping up, most recently an intense sensitivity to odors and sounds, even to the music I love so much. At times, I need silence. My brain overreacts to stimuli.  But this morning, I was able to listen to music, for which I am grateful.

Sometimes the fatigue forces a full stop. But it’s my brain I miss the most. I know I am not thinking clearly.

November 16

I woke up feeling almost normal and decided to write. However, forgetting that the “almost normal” feeling likely had a time limit, I wasted some time online. Unfortunately, that hour used up the sense of well-being and bit of brain power I started out with. Back to the recliner to rest.

November 17

The good news from a few days ago is that I’m getting an extra week between treatments due to Thanksgiving week, making my next treatment in the first week of December. That automatically gives me another extra week before my last treatment, which will now be the week after Christmas.

One evening recently, as I lay in bed listening to music, I was swept up in the glory and beauty of God’s love. Such moments are pure gifts from the Father’s heart.

Saturday

 And here it begins again: wobbly knees and shaky hands (likely peripheral neuropathy) and muscle and joint pain. But this time I am prepared. As pain twinges started up yesterday, joining the sheer exhaustion from chemo, I started on regular Tylenol. With the gradual arrival of muscle complaints in my back, I’ve graduated to Vicodin. Unfortunately, it makes me spacey and sleepy, but I find that far preferable to pain. Clearly, I’m not going anywhere for a few days.

But I do have choices: recliner, bed, office chair at computer; music, social media, and games on my Kindle. Reading books depends upon the level of concentration I can achieve. Oh, yes, and phone calls. I’m catching on to the fact that phone conversations are good pick me ups.

The thing about cancer or any chronic illness is that it can isolate you rather quickly. I like being alone but, you know, there is a limit.

And here, at this moment, my brain has hit its limit on concentrating enough to blog, so I stop for now . . .

Now evening, and I’m still spacey, but not quite so bad since I cut my pain med dose in half at supper. That plus about an hour with the heating pad seems to have worked nicely.

Reading today was confined to social media and news. Hopefully tomorrow, I’ll get back to a chapter a day of N.T. Wright’s study, The Heart of Romans. Even without chemo brain, it would be a bit above my head, but at least I can follow the broad scope of his commentary on Romans 8. It’s inspiring and good.

I start and end my days with music. The two albums I listen to the most, both by Christian musician Fernando Ortega, are Give Me Jesus and The Shadow of Your Wings. They are peaceful and inspiring. They help me remember whose I am and keep me grounded. God is good all the time, and all the time God is good.

My Good Week

 This past week was a welcome reprieve. I felt good enough to drive and leave the house on my own. True, for most things, one hour and just one errand used up my energy, but it is quite amazing how refreshing everyday things can be:

• v  several shopping trips to Walmart and Aldi.
• v  picking up prescriptions from CVS.
• v  browsing at Goodwill.
• v  enjoying a delicious lunch at Jude’s just because.
• v  picking up four more caps in different colors from Hopestone.
• v  working at my Good Shepherd office for an hour one day.
• v  going to church Sunday, for the first time since October 13!

Best of all, I did two 4+ hour visits with my grandchildren (and their parents, of course). The kids were fascinated by my lack of hair, especially Ava (6) and Elijah (almost 3). Those two wanted to touch and rub my head a lot, which was fine with me. Ava was the one who asked if I would please take off my cap. Josiah inspected my head as well. Benjamin did not recognize me at first. Joelle, being a more grown-up 11 ½ year old, was not as focused on my bald head.

You might wonder why I did not do anything with friends . . . because I didn’t feel like I could plan ahead.

To be perfectly honest, there were also some struggles. My hands and forearms itched intensely several times a day and during the night. The only thing that helped was ice packs. Yesterday, the itching stopped thanks to the steroids I take the day before chemo.

Also yesterday, while Joelle and I were playing charades, I decided to act out being a cheerleader, which I was in eighth grade. I stood up to do the Saugatuck High School song and cheer, which I have remembered all these years. Except I didn’t even quite remember the first move, and the rest was simply gone. And, in the evening when I was doing my stretches, which I had finally memorized a couple weeks ago, I couldn’t remember the whole sequence and had to look at the printout to do them.

All in all, though, it was a great week. Today I do chemo treatment #2 and will take it really easy at least for the next week (and remember to take my pain meds when I need them). Just think: two down, two to go.

A Precious Blessing

 Last Saturday evening, I saw an offer to help on my Facebook page. It occurred to me that instead of simply responding with a “thank you,” I could do what is harder for me and make a request. All week I had been thinking of how soothing watermelon is for a sore mouth and sensitive stomach. So, I asked, and the happy result was a Sunday delivery to my front porch. In a bag decorated with a bow were two items: a container of watermelon chunks and a tea towel.

The drop-off was accomplished by the ring of my doorbell. I hurried to the door in time to see Cindy and her husband in their truck ready to pull out. She blew me a kiss as her husband smiled. I sensed God’s blessing on them as they shared in this moment of ministry.

In the house, I put the watermelon in the refrigerator and unfolded the tea towel imprinted with a verse from a favorite hymn:

When peace, like a river,

attendeth my way,

When sorrows

like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot,

Thou hast taught me to say,

It is well, it is well

with my soul.

 I read the verse and remembered that Horatio Spafford had penned these words during a time of profound grief. I thought about times in my life when God has given me inexplicable peace amid great sorrow.

And a little later, I savored every soothing bite of watermelon.