After a long day and a longer night . . .

This is one of those bad chemo times . . . lots of bone pain and an inability to sleep. After feeling really good for three days, the bone pain struck yesterday. It's to be expected, especially with the Neulasta injection I'm getting to keep my white cells within normal range. It's kind of a trade off ~ you give up comfort for the ability to fight infection. I guess life is usually a compromise of one sort or another, isn't it? Anyway, this doesn't last forever and so it's bearable.

The thing that is much less bearable is news we received about Chessie. Those of you who were readers of my ezine know that Chessie, our chocolate lab, was diagnosed with renal failure last year. She had been doing quite well until a short time ago. Blood tests taken yesterday indicate that her disease has progressed much more rapidly than we had hoped. Armed with $300 of medicine, we're doing all we can but, at best, it will only make her more comfortable, not cure the problem.

Our vet is checking into some kind of injection that can be given at home and may help to slow further progression. However, she thinks the cost of this treatment may be prohibitive. If that's the case, we'll have a very hard decision to make . . . one neither Dave nor I want to make. Of course we want Chessie with us as long as possible, as long as she isn't suffering. It's just so hard to know when that point is reached. She was pretty miserable for the past couple of days but tonight she seemed to rebound and acted more like her usual self. I guess we'll just have to wait to talk with the vet and see how things go. But it lays heavy on our hearts.

On a more cheerful note, my youngest grandson and his friend came to visit last night. They just popped in out of nowhere and filled the house with the chatter and laughter only children can provide. It's amazing the energy two 10-year-olds can generate! It almost made me tired just watching them. They were showing me some acrobatic tricks they'd mastered and, with my bones and muscles in the misbegotten shape they are, I was pretty envious of their flexibility. On days like this I have enough trouble walking across the room . . . forget standing on my head. LOL I was also treated to their renditions of the latest songs ~ performed, of course, with lots of spirit! : )

When they're behaving, kids can make you forget all of your problems. They have such an enthusiasm for life and live every single second of it. They can easily find the humorous is any situation and their laughter comes so spontaneously. You have to laugh along with them. It was definitely a good night for John and Darius to visit because they sure helped me forget about my own problems and focus on their simple joy. Isn't it funny how, just when you don't think you can feel any lower, something happens to refresh your spirit?

Today is overcast, cool and clammy. It's the kind of day that requires a comfy throw and a good book. Fortunately I have both and I think it's time for me to find them. When I have problems with my bones, I can only sit at the computer for a short time and I think I've now reached that limit. So, I'm off to a more comfortable chair and I hope you're off to have some fun.

'til next time . . . Find the humor in your situation.

Hair today . . . Bald again tomorrow!

After several months of growing short little fuzz to cover my head . . . it's all falling out again! I have to admit I'll miss it. It was nice to feel that softness on my head and it was even getting to the point where the wind blew it a little. (Never under-estimate how wonderful that can feel!) However, I knew this could happen and was prepared for it. I still have new eyebrows and lashes . . . at least for the time being, so all is not lost in the hair department.

This time it isn't all falling out in one felled swoop, just little by little. I'm not sure which is worse! LOL At least I don't have the trauma of seeing all of my locks laying in the sink or on my clothes. And, this time I won't have the problem of alien-like tufts sticking out from my otherwise bald head. (That was scary!)

I got through the last treatment pretty well and would have done even better if I hadn't had the Neulasta injection to maintain my white blood count. Oh, it worked really well and I never had a big drop. However, it did cause a whole lot of bone pain. The pain wasn't as intense as it has been in the past but it was much more disseminated ~ primarily in large bones like the femur and spine. Before my legs or arms or fingers would ache but this time it was everywhere, even in my neck. It lasted a week or ten days and then eased off. So, it could have been worse.

I also had a problem with my digestive system. There were days when I couldn't look at food without feeling icky. I had to have an ultrasound of my abdomen to check for problems but none were evident. Now I'm taking Compazine (for nausea) throughout the cycle instead of just for the first few days after treatment and that seems to have helped a lot. Even with this irritant, it sure isn't as bad as many cancer patients had to endure before they had all the new drugs to combat nausea and vomiting. My heart goes out to them. I remember how sick my dad got; it was terrible.

I'm having my second treatment in this round later this morning. That's the only one scheduled at this point. In the next few weeks I'll have another CT scan to find out how the tumors have reacted and we'll go from there. It's always a "wait and see" game.

Next week I'm having another MRI ~ this time of my spine. I've had some pain and Dr. Mehrotra is just ruling out a compressed vertebrae, a pinched nerve or a spread of the cancer. We don't think it's the later but we have to make sure. Pretty soon I think I'm going to start to glow in the dark from all of these radiological procedures! ; )

It's just beautiful . . .

Our backyard is blooming! The lilacs, dwarf crab apple tree, and my phlox are all in bloom and it's so pretty! We had the pond cleaned out and it's gurgling away, the water splashing gently over the falls. This is probably the most beautiful time of the season and I get a lot of enjoyment and inspiration from looking around at all of that beauty.

I take my lessons from nature. A few weeks ago, trees and plants looked spent and dead but now, here it is, vibrant and alive in glorious technicolor! It's just further proof that things are not always as they appear. I apply the same process to my disease. Yes, there are very bad times but if I work my way through them and don't give up hope, better times, beautiful times, bloom around the bend. No matter what hardships we're going through, if we just keep fighting we're rewarded with better days.

The hummingbirds are finally back and I love watching them. They're another example of beating the odds. It's amazing to think that such a tiny little bird is capable of making the very long trek it does every spring and fall. Those fragile, beating wings carry it thousands of miles each way and each spring the return of the hummingbird is a further illustration of what all of God's creatures can accomplish if they have the determination.

And then there are my "people" . . .

Yes, I have "people" ~ my support angels ~ and I think I'm wearing them out ~ Jenn has contracted a virus that's in the same family as mono and Dave seems to be tired all the time. I guess it's about time I started feeling better so I can take better care of them. They have been just wonderful to me and have done so much for me during the last several months ~ I don't know what I would've done without them. Sometimes I feel guilty for having to depend on them so much but I know they want to be here for me and that makes me feel better. Of course, I also get tremendous support from John and his family and my sister, Sherry, not to mention all that you guys send me. Who could be luckier?

Time to go . . .

Well, guys, it's time for me to start getting ready so I won't be late for my treatment. We have to leave a little early this morning since we're dropping my grandson, John, off at school first. He's leaving for 4th grade camp today! The kids always have a blast and I'm sure John will be no exception. Then, it's on to Seton Cancer Institute and 5 hours of chemo. Wish I was going to camp with John! : ) Since the steroids I have to take before treatment kept me awake the better part of the night, hopefully, I'll sleep through most of that treatment.

Thanks for stopping by to check up on me and I hope you'll come back. : ) Make your days happy and productive ~ yeah, watching hummingbirds does qualify as productive!

'til next time . . . keep your eyes and your heart open to the beauty around you.

The other side of the coin . . .

It's a really pretty day, my lilacs are budding, the trees are beginning to sprout green buds and all is well with the world. : )

I just returned from the cancer institute where I received my first injection of Neulasta ~ this is a drug that's supposed to be very helpful in maintaining white blood counts so that cancer patients aren't so prone to infections. My blood counts have rebounded splendidly from that bout with the tough chemo and I guess my oncologist wants to make sure they stay there. I'm happy to report that I had a chemo treatment on Wednesday using my old drugs and I still feel fine ~ nothing like how I felt when I had the other. So . . . so far, so good!

More good news . . . my eyelashes and eyebrows are growing back in! I don't know how long they will last since this course of chemo may make all my hair fall out again but it's nice to have them if even just for a little while. It makes me feel a little more normal. However, I've discovered that you can get used to just about anything when it comes to the little cosmetic things. A year ago I would have cringed if someone told me I'd have a bald head and face. Now it just doesn't make all that much difference. It's what's going on inside my body that matters most. I guess vanity doesn't have a high priority when you're fighting a life-threatening illness. It kind of makes you wonder if there really is any need for such concentration on physical appearance even when you're well. Isn't it always the inner beauty that is most important?

Now that I'm feeling better, I hope I can get back to feeling like a normal person instead of a cancer patient. It's been kind of hard to do that for awhile. The goal is to forget about the cancer and get on with living your life. However, when everything reminds you that you're sick, you kind of get stuck in the rut of feeling like a victim. That isn't good at all! No matter what your problem, you can't focus on it to the exclusion of everything else or you waste so much time that could be put to far greater use. It's depressing and probably as debilitating as what's wrong in the first place.

To be honest, when I was so sick from the chemo, I began to wonder why I would fight to live that quality of life. Happily, that has passed and I'm feeling very positive again. It was the darkest time I've had since I was diagnosed and I'm so relieved that it's now over. I guess that's the real reason you must keep fighting ~ because around the bend better things are coming!

A good friend sent me the following and I'd like to share it with you:

Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago, writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith.

That was the day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn't what's on your head but what's in it that counts; but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange... Very strange.

Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a cynical tone, "Do you think I'll ever find God?"

I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very emphatically.

"Why not," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."

I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out, "Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you!"

He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line -- He will find you! At least I thought it was clever.

Later I heard that Tommy had graduated, and I was duly grateful.

Then a sad report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe. "Tommy, I've thought about you so often; I hear you are sick," I blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's a matter of weeks."

"Can you talk about it, Tom?" I asked.

"Sure, what would you like to know?" he replied

"What's it like to be only twenty-four and dying?"

"Well, it could be worse."

"Like what?"

"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real biggies in life.."

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under "S" where I had filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)

"But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, "is something you said to me on the last day of class." (He remembered!) He continued, "I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, 'No!' which surprised me. Then you said, 'But He will find you.' I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time.

(My clever line. He thought about that a lot!)

"But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, that's when I got serious about locating God.. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit."

"Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn't really care about God, about an after life, or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: 'The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them'."

"So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him. "Dad."

"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.

"Dad, I would like to talk with you."

"Well, talk."

"I mean . It's really important."

The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"

"Dad, I love you, I just wanted you to know that." Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him.

"The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me."

"It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years."

"I was only sorry about one thing --- that I had waited so long. Here I was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to."

"Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn't come to me when I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, 'C'mon, jump through. C'mon, I'll give you three days, three weeks.'"

"Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the important thing is that He was there. He found me! You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him."
"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that. He said: 'God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him.' Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing i . . ."

"Oooh.. I was ready for you, but I don't know if I'm ready for your class."

"Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call."

In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date.

However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class. Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time.

"I'm not going to make it to your class," he said.

"I know, Tom."

"Will you tell them for me? Will you ... tell the whole world for me?"

"I will, Tom. I'll tell them. I'll do my best."

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to read this simple story about God's love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven --- I told them, Tommy, as best I could.

This is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.
With thanks,
Rev. John Powell, Professor, Loyola University, Chicago

Thanks for reading, and . . .

Until next time . . . Let that love out, for yourself and others.