Someone asked me "How long have you had cancer?" As of today, I've been living with known cancer for three years, two months, two weeks and three days. Yes, I'm that aware of the time involved! :D
Nary a day goes by without my being aware of the disease in my body. I wake up creaky and sore, but that settles down as I get my day started. My back muscles hurt more than they used to, but pain levels are manageable with ibuprofen. My hands and feet are doing fine on the current dose of chemotherapy.
I had a difficult March as I struggled through waves of depression and lethargy. While most of my friends and family knew I wasn't at the top of my form, few knew how desperate I felt. I was concerned that this was how I was going to feel for the rest of my life. Fortunately, those four weeks (to the day!) seem to be correlated to the higher dose of chemo we had tried. I'm now back on my former dose and seem to be doing fine.
My tumor markers fell a bit last month so perhaps the higher dose wasn't in vain. However, I'm not sure I'm willing to take the higher dose if I'm unable to function at an optimum level. We'll see. I'll meet with the oncologist on the 21st to discuss any changes.
As you know, I've had to have difficult conversations with my children. The hardest conversations I've ever had was to tell them (and my husband) that I had a terminal disease. We've had some heart-to-heart talks about what this means. We've dealt with the ramifications and we are accelerating some plans for their future (i.e. when they get their driver's licenses) based on my diagnosis.
Because I think of cancer every day, it's hard not to imagine that they do the same thing. This morning, as I was driving Michael to school today, we were chatting about life and he made the statement, "I think I have a pretty good life." I agreed with him. I said, "Even though I have cancer, I can say that my 50s is the best decade ever! Life just keeps getting better and better."
Then he said words that warmed my heart. "Mom, sometimes I forget you have cancer. I don't think about it every day."
A glow filled my soul. My beloved son doesn't think about cancer every day. These words filled me with joy and reassured me that our Savior is caring for and protecting my son's heart in ways I'm not aware.
We celebrated the Resurrection yesterday. It's very real to us, yet there's so much we don't understand. Michael and I also talked about Heaven this morning and how we really can't understand it. Both of us can be literal minded and his inability to process the idea of "forever" is very similar to my own. Our finite minds have difficulties encompassing the infinite.
Michael and I are going to the East Coast next week for some mother/son time. Rachel will be going to a Giants baseball game with her dad and going to Disneyland with the church high school group. (Both kids will be on spring break.) Art will be going to a one day men's retreat. We will be living life, all in awareness of the love and grace we've received, reaching out to others while being rejuvenated ourselves.
Because He lives, we can face tomorrow.
Nary a day goes by without my being aware of the disease in my body. I wake up creaky and sore, but that settles down as I get my day started. My back muscles hurt more than they used to, but pain levels are manageable with ibuprofen. My hands and feet are doing fine on the current dose of chemotherapy.
I had a difficult March as I struggled through waves of depression and lethargy. While most of my friends and family knew I wasn't at the top of my form, few knew how desperate I felt. I was concerned that this was how I was going to feel for the rest of my life. Fortunately, those four weeks (to the day!) seem to be correlated to the higher dose of chemo we had tried. I'm now back on my former dose and seem to be doing fine.
My tumor markers fell a bit last month so perhaps the higher dose wasn't in vain. However, I'm not sure I'm willing to take the higher dose if I'm unable to function at an optimum level. We'll see. I'll meet with the oncologist on the 21st to discuss any changes.
As you know, I've had to have difficult conversations with my children. The hardest conversations I've ever had was to tell them (and my husband) that I had a terminal disease. We've had some heart-to-heart talks about what this means. We've dealt with the ramifications and we are accelerating some plans for their future (i.e. when they get their driver's licenses) based on my diagnosis.
Because I think of cancer every day, it's hard not to imagine that they do the same thing. This morning, as I was driving Michael to school today, we were chatting about life and he made the statement, "I think I have a pretty good life." I agreed with him. I said, "Even though I have cancer, I can say that my 50s is the best decade ever! Life just keeps getting better and better."
Then he said words that warmed my heart. "Mom, sometimes I forget you have cancer. I don't think about it every day."
A glow filled my soul. My beloved son doesn't think about cancer every day. These words filled me with joy and reassured me that our Savior is caring for and protecting my son's heart in ways I'm not aware.
We celebrated the Resurrection yesterday. It's very real to us, yet there's so much we don't understand. Michael and I also talked about Heaven this morning and how we really can't understand it. Both of us can be literal minded and his inability to process the idea of "forever" is very similar to my own. Our finite minds have difficulties encompassing the infinite.
Michael and I are going to the East Coast next week for some mother/son time. Rachel will be going to a Giants baseball game with her dad and going to Disneyland with the church high school group. (Both kids will be on spring break.) Art will be going to a one day men's retreat. We will be living life, all in awareness of the love and grace we've received, reaching out to others while being rejuvenated ourselves.
Because He lives, we can face tomorrow.
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