Memories of Six Chemos

A week later.

At this moment in time, the minutes and events of the past week are memories. YEAH!

As I opened my eyes this morning, once again every cell in my body was shouting out, We're happy! They were all wiggling and smiling, like a bunch of kids crowding home plate to high five the guy who just hit a game-winning grand slam. Everyone's crowded together, jumping up and down, just can't contain their joy.

Every chemo of this series of six will be remembered by me for something. As of this moment right now, here's my memories.


The first was all new, I was trying so hard to be brave and strong and do it all right. Mike and I clung together, you all showered us with gifts and food and flowers and words of encouragement and prayers. I didn't know what my future would be. I was trying so hard, I hadn't learned that God was totally in control. I was scared, but you know, I was brave.

The second and third blend together. They were tough times. I knew how I would feel, I was in the middle of it all, had a sinus infection.  Had a second biopsy after number three. Ouch! Just when you think you have the faith thing down, more gets thrown at you. Now I get it, but going through it is tough. I was carried through by Mike, S, family, friends, you visited, you called, you ate with me, walked with me, lifted me up, laughed with me, hugged me. Literally carried me through.

Fourth I was surrounded by family. Mike, Mack, Tray, Corey. Needed that. I knew Jesus was there, but I needed to have love right there in the room, in cellular form. That I could touch and hold.  Vivid photographs in my mind of that weekend.

Fifth was the worst I think. Hardest physically. My body was weak. Everyone chipped in and helped. I thought I was done with chemo, really thought it. A flamboyance of flamingos. Yes, that is true. I adore, simply adore collective nouns, and isn't that a great one?  Does anyone remember Ruth Heller's picture book on collective nouns out about twenty five years ago?



Now the sixth chemo, Mike and S watched about thirty hours of the television series The Tudors with me over a four day period. It is finally the glorious fall weather we all perch on the edge of our lawn chairs waiting for in Florida, but I wanted to be a couch toad and watch the Tudors series. So they did too.

We ate red velvet cake and beef tenderloin and pasta and shells and black beans and pecan pie and lemon pie. Black licorice and almonds. And chicken soup and chicken soup and oatmeal cookies and pears and chicken soup. They exercised in the mornings while I was still asleep or was doing a guided meditation, or napping. They walked and jogged all around Winter Park. Came back with stories (saw five peacocks, twenty five percent of the people are texting or using their cell phones while driving on Aloma, there was a fashion show in downtown Winter Park, fifteen percent are texting while driving on Aloma, there's a new head of South Korea, what was the season finale on Mad Men?)

One week later, I will never have chemo again. PHEW. All the cells in my body are happy, jumping up and down for joy. They are giggly happy. All the cancer that might have been hiding anywhere in my body has been zapped like a green piggy on Angry Birds.

Now is time to return to healthy.... ramp up for radiation...  I have my planning session with the radiologist Dr. S tomorrow.

By the grace of God we are healed.

Blue Day

Yesterday was a blue day. Do you have these?

Absolutely nothing about yesterday, Thursday, was different than Wednesday.

The details of my life were identical to the day before, but my filter was making everything look blue.

I think this was incited by my failure Wednesday afternoon to maintain peace and positivity when the power went out. I failed the "Trust me in all things" test. So, to build on that failure, I proceeded to point out all the other failures I see in me. To me.

What a doofus I am.

My feet have concrete blocks tied to them.

My head slightly aches.

Why do anything?

Who would want to be with me?

What's the use of typing out an e-mail, who would want to read it?

Can I really do all these chemos?

Boy, without the wig I look like an alien, ET.

In fact, with the wig on I don't look so hot either.

Oops, here comes a hot flash, okay every cell in my body has decided to rev up at once, I am dripping sweat  and the thermometer in this room reads 72.

Time to get some exercise, onto the elliptical. But why do that, no energy.

Some women go to work all through chemo. I am a wienie.

My chemo port is just driving me crazy, why is it in my arm?

I should get Dad's meds sorted out for another week. Too tired, wait until Saturday.

My tomato plants all died. I didn't water them. Could I rescue them? No.

When is this chemo ever going to end?

I am so sick of drinking water, to flush out the kidneys.

I should do some desk work, that will only frustrate me more. But I should.

I wanted to take up Yoga, why didn't I?

On and on and on...

Oh, the valleys the thoughts can wander down.

At 53, I know these blue days, or really hours, don't last long. I can stop them right away usually, because at some point I listen to the conversation in my mind. So self centered... poor me, woe is me, me, me, me. And I say, Really Sara? THIS is what you are occupying your thoughts with? These comments? All about you? Pretty silly...

As I know God is so efficient (that is really a neat thing about Him), He can step in and use these blue moments for some good eye-opening for me. He has done that in the past, He will do it now.

This is how it all started: I failed on a "Trust me, do not be anxious" exercise on Wednesday. And honestly, it wasn't a total F, maybe a C. I had a friend sitting in the car right next to me who kept telling me that the lights/electricity would go on, and kept trying to distract me (which is usually pretty easy.) But I wasn’t distracted. I panicked. Oh I am tired and why does this have to happen today? Mike after a long day at the office will come home to no food, and a hot muggy house. He will be irritated, I feel irritated. Not a good combination, and it is my fault. ALL MY FAULT.

That is how out of reality your thoughts can become when you are blue. That it is my fault that a storm downed a power in our neighborhood. Hm...

Anne Lamott (the dear blond dread-locked single mom in San Francisco who writes phenomenal books) says she has two main prayers, two go-to prayers. "Help me, Help me, Help me," and " Thank you , thank you , thank you." I think you can say them both at once.  As we ask, He comes through.

But I didn't ask.

When you are in a blue day, basically you are saying you are not sure you trust Him. Well, really, you aren't thinking of Him at all. You are putting Him on hold, and answering the phone call from the part of you that just wants to live in the pits.

Why do we do this? All I have to do is call out to God, and He is there waiting to answer. He listens to all my cries.  Before I utter even one pitiful cry, He knows and He already has the answer, and probably is working it out in my life if I would bother to look. I just wasn't listening, I wasn't looking. I had my back turned away from Him.

WHY DO WE DO THAT?

WHY DO I DO THAT?

Does it come down to control? There is a part of me that still wants to be in control. I intellectually WANT to give control, authority, power to God for every centimeter of my life, and I do. Then I reach out, maybe slyly, and take back one little bit, then another. And another.

Lord you have amazing patience with me. And I know it is limitless. May I not get anywhere near your limit (I could digress on discussion of infinity here but we will leave that to ninth grade geometry and Euclid and Archimedes).

How did I snap out of the blue Thursday?

There are ways I use, time tested. Pick up the basket of cards, e-mails and letters from you all of encouragement. Pick up the bible and read Hebrews 11 and 12 (my chapters I have clung to since high school). Pick up the phone and call a friend. Pick up my feet and walk to a friends house. Pick up by IPOD and listen to Casting Crowns Praise You in this Storm. It all involves me doing one action, one little action.

How did I snap out of the blue this time? My darling husband, who also has patience with me. Not limitless, but pretty darn close. He watches me, keeps telling me he loves me, and then, when he sees my eyes sparkle just a hint, he jumps in - hugs and talk about the dog or the Tigers or the weather. Silly talk. Just talk. He tells me, You  are going through so much, don’t worry that it bothers you sometimes. Don’t be so hard on yourself. He starts building the bridge so I can cross back into the world.

And I'm back. The point is, my husband never gives up on me. And if he doesn't, just think how God is. Hugging me and loving me every second. And when the sparkle comes, that's when I am turning to face back to Jesus. Maybe just glancing over my shoulder to see if He is possibly there. And there He is, overjoyed that He can show me today how much He loves me, because I will be looking at Him. I will see all the footprints of His love.

Why would we ever turn away from someone who loves us so unconditionally and completely and perfectly as God does?

My answer: Because we don't feel worthy of His love. I don't. As I am one speck of sand in the beach of humanity, and He knows all about me, knows all my thoughts, the number of hairs on my head (that's not difficult today), and knew me in my mother's womb. There is no way I can be worth His attention. Well, even in my top of the mountain days I know I am not worthy. None of us are.

That's where GRACE comes in. God would move mountains, create sunsets, heal me, sacrifice His Son, just to show me how much He loves me. I don't deserve it. But He does it anyway. He loves me. Unmerited favor. Grace.

Grace is a breath taking concept. I for one am tickled pink God thought it up.

The unforced rhythms of grace - Chemo #2

Twenty four hours ago I was sitting in one of the six lounge chairs in Dr M's Chemo Lounge (does that make us lounge lizards) and was in the middle of the four and a half hour process of Chemo # 2. A very, very different experience than Chemo #1.

In retrospect, as God was in control, it was just what I needed. But in the middle of it, boy I wasn't thinking that. God provides all we need. He is in control. It's like those "learn to drive cars with two brake pedals and two steering wheels." I acknowledge that He is in control, I hand him the steering wheel, and then I keep using the instructor one too often, taking back control. AHHH!

I am warning you that this is a long entry, but I am doing this in that it might help someone else going through chemo. You won't insult me if you don't read it!

Okay, Monday was great. Lunch with two fantastic friends at Houston's, S and D. Upbeat and happy and just wonderful. Mike and I had a peaceful dinner here. Sat by the lake after dinner, watched the sun set.. Dear dear friend S arrived from Charlotte, who will be here all week. It takes two people to take care of me...

Tuesday did a gentle elliptical machine walk, lunch with S and M and M at PF Changs.  These are dear, dear friends. All is good.

Got to the Doctors office and it started out rocky. I have a port in my right arm above the elbow, and I have had eleven lymph nodes removed from the left arm. The surgeon's office told me that no blood pressure cuff on the left arm, nor blood drawn from left arm.

The nurse calls me back for the blood pressure and blood drawing pre-chemo. She starts to do the blood pressure cuff on the left arm, which I say I don't think you should because of the eleven lymph nodes taken. Next she puts the cuff right over the port on the right arm and I say, I don't think that's a good idea either. So she asks me, how should she take my blood pressure then. I respond, I don't know, perhaps you could ask someone else. There's another nurse in the room. She puts the upper arm cuff on my left wrist and says, this will be good enough. Yes, on the wrist of the arm I told her had the eleven nodes removed. But I didn't want to keep arguing with a nurse who was about to stick me with a needle...

Next drawing blood. She goes towards the left arm, to put on the rubber band, and I remind her that is the arm where the lymph nodes were taken and I wasn't supposed to have blood drawn from that arm. And I was told they would draw blood from the port from now on. She said she had never drawn blood from an arm port, so how about from my wrist. After a good minute, she said she didn't see a good vein there, and asked me again what should she do. I said again, I don't know. I suggested she ask Dr. M what to do. I returned to the waiting room.

I know this was wordy, but that was how the visit started. She might have been having a bad day, but it shows you how important attitude is. It wasn't very confidence inspiring to me.  Started the chemo visit off on the wrong foot, and I was emotional to start with. I know that. What follows is an interaction that any other day of my life would have been totally unmemorable. In retrospect it was so silly. Read on.

Then you see the doctor's assistant. You check off on one page your issues from the past three weeks, so they can see your status clearly, and it is well organized.

My biggest issue in the past three weeks was a sinus infection, which started probably Thursday (two days after Chemo #1), with a splitting headache, really large and tender neck glands, and that sinus ache under the eye and the ear ache. I was alternating Tylenol and Advil every two hours, my temp stayed under 100.5 for four days, so I never called them until the next week when the nasal discharge was way to obvious that it was a sinus infection not getting better. They prescribed a penicillin antibiotic, which I am not supposed to have due to allergy (pharmacy caught that, thank goodness.) I called the doctor on call again from the pharmacy, and they changed the prescription to a Z-pak (time release antibiotic.)

I told the doctor's assistant, I was scared the sinus infection isn't gone.  It is improving, but I still have the symptoms. Improved, but not gone.

The first lesson, do not take Tylenol or Advil if you have any fever, because they want to see if it will go over 100.5 (their benchmark). I honestly don't remember them telling me that. I remember them telling me to take Tylenol and Advil. So I messed up. The assistant was stern, reprimanded me for a good two minutes.  Wow.

On top of the blood work fiasco, her telling me so strongly I did the wrong thing, I shouldn't have done that, I should have listened to them more carefully, well, when she left I was in tears.

In comes Dr. M. He took right up on it, I did the wrong thing. He wasn't giving me more antibiotic because the Z-pak I got will last six more days. I told him, in the past when I have had sinus infections I have needed two or three sessions of antibiotics, plus cortisone sprays. I have a difficult time getting rid of sinus infections.  I'm in tears again. Feeling really stupid for being in tears, so that brings more tears.

Well, wasn't this just me being scared, upset I messed up when I truly want to do all I can to cooperate, and not having trust in this doctor? So thankfully (pointed out by my husband), he perceived I didn't trust him, and he asked me to repeat back to him what he had just told me. So I stood there and did. At the time this was demeaning.  I was so mixed up emotionally. He said good, I seem to understand. And he left. Again, tears...

So, back to the Chemo Lounge. The nurses there are THE BEST. They did the blood work out of my port, they smile and chat. The doctor's assistant came back to say hello again. Another nurse K came and talked with me for about thirty minutes while they were mixing up the chemo stuff. They could tell I was really upset.

When they put in the IV, I thought alright now Sara, you need to get out of this teary state, frustration and doubt are not what this is all about. I could stay upset, or I could get over it. It is totally my choice. Just saying, God take this away, wasn't going to do it. He wanted me to be more involved and learn something. Thoughts feed feeling. I know.... And yes, I was a captive audience for about four hours in that lounge chair, so off we went.

For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power (HIS POWER) and love (HIS LOVE) and self-control (TURN CONTROL OVER TO HIM.) 2 Timothy 1:7 (Capitals are mine.)

God has set up this system that we have the control to turn our lives, every itty bitty detail, every moment that seems like it is heading towards a crash and we have been trying to keep the car on the road but just can't... lift it all up to him.  Because He loves us so much that he sacrificed His most precious gift for us, He will use His power to move mountains and open up our eyes to see and heal people and heal relationships and change our attitudes to be in alignment with His perfect perfect plan.

I plugged in my headphones from my IPAD, got to Vivaldi's Four Seasons, then to the e-mail responses from some of you from Monday's Blog. Then I prayed. I prayed for Dr. M, and our relationship. I saw I hadn't shown I trusted him. That is a big ego blow to anyone. I made mistakes, but he might have taken it that I didn't trust him. Look at this from his perspective if I am really interested in having this relationship work.

I wanted what I wanted, and he didn't think it was the best course. I had not followed their directions (believe me, that was an honest mistake) but here's a doctor that has devoted years and days and hours to study and trying to do the best for his patients, and I was non-verbally saying, and verbally too, I don't agree! That's a tough thing for anyone to hear, especially someone that knows what they are talking about.

From the Chemo Lounge, I was texting Mike, who responded - "He is actually a perceptive and sensitive guy. Don't worry about taking the Advil, no harm done." then, "You are right, Here's to the strength in letting God be in control." then the last text and the best " Remember, the unforced rhythms of grace."

Forgiving the nurse who was having a bad day, that was easy. It didn't help me, but in the end, God provides and Chemo Lounge Nurse did a great job of the blood work and Chemo giving. Forgiving the assistant was easy, she wasn't as forceful, and yes I messed up on the Tylenol Advil thing.


As for Dr M, there was no forgiveness needed. It was so clear to me now, God has given me a doctor that perceived I was wanting something that he didn't think was correct, and he wasn't going to give into me. He was willing to stand up to me and work me through it until I agreed to follow his instructions. Now, that's a doctor that wants me healed. Is that a sign. IS THAT A BILLBOARD? I wanted to apologize to him that I had forcefully told him I didn't like his plan. Thankfully he is my doctor, and he had enough compassion for me to work me through it. He didn't give up on me.

All this prayer and working out took maybe thirty minutes. Which is the time they give you the steroids and antihistamine and all the pre~chemo stuff. God's message was so clear at the end. The entire episode from the moment I walked into the office was such a good lesson.

My next thought, those of you who know me, I just can't let a relationship stay frayed. Just can't. So what do I do, write him a note (no - how dorky is that?) Do I call him when I am done (no - just what he wants, a call at night from a patient.) Well, I decided to let God figure out how to let this closure happen. Told Him I was going to focus on the chemo coming into my body, the gentle teal colored ocean waves washing in and out and swirling around and the stretch of beach and sky... Palm Beach of four weeks ago.

The rest of the time, which was four of the four and a half hours, were peaceful and restful and wonderful. The staff, the nurses are compassion and efficiency combined and personified.

Now, not done yet. Listen to this, GOD IS SO GOOD. I am the very last person done, most of the office, staff are gone. Its 5:15, I pack up my IPAD, walk out of the Chemo Lounge, and who should come out of a office door in the same three foot wide hall LITERALLY two feet in front of me but Dr. M. THANK YOU GOD.

I say, Dr. M. He turns around. Dr. M. I am so sorry I didn't trust your decision on the antibiotic and I want to thank you for caring enough about me that you didn't give up on me, that you saw I wasn't agreeing with you, and you didn't let up. He says, well, we all make mistakes, sometimes I make mistakes, and I interrupted him (these steroids make you hyper) and I said, you have the medical degree, you know what you are doing. I am thankful you are my doctor.

I don't really understand him as a person, he always looks a little sad. Oncology is a tough emotional field I am sure. Now I know he is going to fight for me. I like that. I've got the greatest doctor. And husband. And friends.

Bottom line, God is in control. The unforced rhythms of grace. Got to think on that phrase some more. We can't force the timing.  Well we can try to, but that's taking control back from God. We can't force the rhythm, the rhythm that gives you peace, the peace that passes all understanding. Grace, well that's the gifts we don't deserve. But we get them anyway.

And you know what, most of the time we don't see these gifts. We get so caught up in the negative, the bad situation, and we get into avoidance mode. So we don't see the gift that is sitting right in front of us. Boy, if this Chemo #2 wasn't an example of unforced rhythm of grace, what is?

The unforced rhythms of grace. What does this mean to you?

To end, today Wednesday was great. Day after chemo. Slept until 10:30. Visited with L and S, and talked about how We were Strong Women and didn't always want to agree with doctor's advice (HA!), went mall walking with M and S. Napped and will nap again.

S and my husband and kids are saints. Imagine a friend willing to be here a week, just letting me set the pace. She will never ever know how her presence allowed me to get through the week. Sitting in the parking lot after chemo, listening to me for thirty minutes going on about the afternoon and helping me process. Imagine a husband up to his eyeballs in work, taking care of Alzheimer father, settling mother's estate, and still healing from CTCL, yet putting me first. Imagine kids willing to play Catch Phrase for hours with us. And texting and e-mailing. Imagine friends cooking dinners and mall walking (at my pace - its cooler inside the mall that the hot and humid outside of a Florida summer). And imagine a friend stopping over last night after work, to do a crossword puzzle with us.

Life is pretty, pretty good...

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Here's three good e-mail excerpts I got in the past few days

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Mother Teresa said, “We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.” You know how hard it is for me to be silent? He was sharpening his sword with me and I am OK with that! Mother Teresa also had another great quote pertaining to God sending her more than she could handle; she said, “I wish He didn’t trust me so much!” Me too!

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Let light and healing water and the love of Jesus guide you through- as I know you are giving yourself up and trusting completely.

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This is a series of jokes sent to me yesterday.
They are all titled, "And That's How the Fight Started"

My wife and I are watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire while we were in bed. I turned to her and said, 'Do you want to have sex?'
'No,' she answered.
I then said, 'Is that your final answer?'
She didn't even look at me this time, simply saying 'Yes.'
So I said, 'Then I'd like to phone a friend.'

And that's when the fight started...

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I took my wife to a restaurant. The waiter, for some reason, took my order first. 'I'll have the strip steak, medium rare, please."
He said, 'Aren't you worried about the mad cow?
'Nah, she can order for herself.'

And that's when the fight started......

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My wife sat down on the couch next to me as I was flipping the channels.
She asked, 'What's on TV?'
I said, 'Dust.'

And then the fight started...

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My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary. She said, 'I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 200 in about seconds.  So I bought her a scale

And then the fight started..

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My wife and I were sitting at a table at her high school reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his drink as he sat alone at a nearby table. I asked her, 'Do you know him?'
'Yes,' she sighed, ' He's my old boyfriend...
I understand he took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear he hasn't been sober since.'
'My Gosh!' I said, 'who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?'

And then the fight started...

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I rear-ended a car this morning.. So, there we were alongside the road and slowly the other driver got out of his car. You know how sometimes you just get soooo stressed and little things just seem funny? Yeah, well I couldn't believe it... he was a DWARF!!!
He stormed over to my car, looked up at me, and shouted, 'I AM NOT HAPPY!'
So, I looked down at him and said, 'Well, then which one are you?'

And then the fight started.....

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SAVE THE BEST FOR LAST.....

When our lawn mower broke and wouldn't run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed. But, somehow I always had something else to take care of first, the truck, the car, playing golf,
Always something more important to me.

Finally she thought of a clever way to make her point. When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors.

I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. I was gone only a minute, and when I came out again I handed her a toothbrush. I said, 'When you finish cutting the grass, you might as well sweep the driveway.'

The doctors say I will walk again, but I will always have a limp.