Ruin will happen in this life. We will lose, we will miss out, we will hurt. An easier road won’t always present itself after an arduous climb. The valleys will sometimes run into each other without the mountaintop in between. The dark sometimes just gets darker. It’s 3 steps backward and 10 more going the wrong direction. Yes, ruin will happen…

It’s quite possible that in hearing this, many may consider me too cynical and hardened, faithless and lacking hope. But I don’t think hope is asking for the rescue when things are hard. That seems more like desperation. Instead, I think hope is asking for the revelation of purpose in the hard. That, I believe, is redemption.

What if we accepted the ruin knowing that the hope in redemption is not bound by rescue alone?

*Post 992

Interesting :: 12/18/17 :: Post 111

“Her curls look good today.” “Wow, she has a ton of hair.” “Her hair is such a beautiful color.” “That is a cute style for short hair.” “I wonder how long it will take for my hair to grow back?”

I find myself looking more at hair these days. It’s an interesting part of this journey – the things that come up that never were preoccupations before but now are.

Food is one of the most difficult parts of this chapter. I have no appetite. I have no taste. But the awful chemo taste in my mouth makes me nauseous. Nausea is also made worse when my stomach is empty…but filling my stomach makes me have awful heartburn. So, I have to force myself to eat to keep the nausea at bay but then I eat and get sick due to the heartburn. Oh, and the really fun part of all of this is that on one day, one thing will sit well and I’ll feel pretty good and then the next, it’s making me puke my guts out. That is a FUUUUUUN game. *eye roll*

It’s an interesting part of this journey – the things that were mundane and routine are now an all-consuming tug-of-war.

Nothing. And I mean nothing in this has been predictable. Every round has been different. The side effects have shown up on different days…and the side effects have been different on whatever days they hit. The length of time that the side effects last has also been different. Every. Time. This unpredictability has significantly complicated this entire chapter. I think it would be “easier” (a VERY relative term) if I knew what to expect. I could see getting through this “easier” if it was the same every time. For example…in looking back over the last four rounds, this day (day 8 of the cycle) has been very different: Round 1, I woke up feeling refreshingly better than the day before (which was my worst of that cycle) and went to work just fine…and I still had my hair. Round 2, I found myself in the hospital with a critical low potassium level and feeling like death. Round 3, I was feeling okay enough to get to work, get through the day, minimal to no nausea, but was very fatigued. Round 4, I was up all night with an upset stomach, barely could get myself to work, and sobbed my eyes out when I got home because of how nauseous and sick and fatigued I felt (and then I got to play the food game).

It’s an interesting part of this journey – what was a pretty predictable experience (get up, get ready, go to work, come home, family time, sleep, get up, get ready, go to work, come home, family time, sleep, get up……….) has become the exact opposite.

I will keep saying this because it’s truth – everything about this is hard. And I’m tired.

Deep and Meaningful :: 12/18/18 :: Post 462

I had another one of those moments today where I was astounded by the fact that I’m doing cancer. That I’m walking this road. That I’ve got these words in my story. 

That I’m doing this hard thing. 

I saw a dear friend today and I asked her how she was. Her answer: I’m ok. Life is deep and meaningful. 

I liked that. So much. 

There is something so transformative about choosing to engage in the depth and richness of life. To seek purpose in the pain when running from it is easier. To decide that every moment has meaning instead of being focused on the I-can’t-wait-fors. To embrace the wholeness of the experience. The WHOLEness. 

As easy as it is to run from the hard, the hard is where life is lived. 

Living Changed Head to Toe Day 18 :: 12/18/19 :: Post 826

It is amazing to me now the vascular system of the body works. My veins have had to work hard over the past couple of years…I’ve had more IV sticks than I’d like to count, anesthesia has flowed, poison has coursed and saline has ran through my system, all because cancer invaded my body, stealing healthy blood supply so it could attempt a full take over.

It’s also incredible to know that the fat transplant that my surgeon did for reconstruction required my body to create a new vascular map of veins to keep my transplant alive…not to mention that when he removed the fat to begin with, he also took with it a main artery that originally lived in my abdomen and reconnected it to a main artery in my upper chest area so that the new map had a place to start. And it all worked.

Like, for real.  

I am so grateful tonight for the things in my body that work. I don’t even have to think about my heart doing its job to get circulation all over my body. That is bonkers… So while my heart and vascular system have endured literal poison, it has remained resilient and reliable so that I am alive for this moment. Living changed head to toe – day 18 – my veins and what flows through them. I am in awe of the body and how God intricately created each little part to do its job. I will choose to remain grateful for the things I once didn’t even think twice about and I will continue to learn how to offer grace to the parts that let me down.