After I posted my question yesterday, I have since found myself thinking so much about it. At times the ‘what would I say?’ has run through my head over and over, asking myself ‘what if in __________.’ And at other times, while in the midst of something vastly unrelated to thinking altogether, a ‘what about when _________’ pops in.
Gratitude.
Now because ‘gratitude’ is the buzz word of this time of year, I kept asking myself, ‘Really? That’s how you’d answer that question? Be more creative than that… choose a non-cliché… don’t take the first-word-that-comes-to-your-mind answer…’ And then each time, my heart would say back, ‘No, really. That’s the one.’
As I’ve reflected on all of my scenarios and circumstances, situations and seasons, mountains and valleys, brightest moments and darkest tragedies, at the very desperate end of myself, it’s been gratitude that has met me there. For me, gratitude doesn’t eliminate or replace anything in those places. It simply sits right in it, together with whatever is there. Both+And. And that’s the thing about my question – whatever you’ve found at the end of yourself, I’m guessing it, too, is a both+and. . .
*Post 963
So Much for Predictability :: 11/22/17 :: Post 86
Round 3 has already been different than 1 and 2. So much for predictability…. The nausea hit right away, the heartburn is horrendous, the fatigue is extreme but no bone pain (yet?). So odd how they have all been so different.
I went back to my cancer center today to get fluids and they gave me extra anti-nausea meds, too. I got to see my nurses again and when Angela asked me how I was doing and I told her how bad I was doing, she jokingly said, “Man, girl, you suck at chemo.” We laughed. Because it’s true. My body is not tolerating it very well at all. I was sitting there with a few other women and one was describing a pretty “easy” time with their chemo and how manageable it was for them…about how the worst part was how their mouth tasted.
Oh how I felt envious. If only that were the worst thing I’d have to endure. I won’t disagree – the mouth stuff totally sucks and I think the taste in my mouth contributes to my nausea, but I have a long list of things far worse than a metal-ly taste in my mouth.
Stupid cancer.
And today I struggled more than usual with the emotional side of this evil disease. My favorite chair wasn’t available so I had to choose one where there were a few other women in the same area. (My favorite chair is isolated to just a row of 4 and a big TV is what is in front of me so I don’t have to see any other sick people). It was really hard being in the same space with other people fighting whatever cancer has rocked their world and changed their lives forever. How sickly we all look when we have to go to the bathroom and take our IV pumps with us…how slow we all walk…how weary we all look…how battle worn our bodies appear. Seeing friends and family members in there with their loved one as they are pumped full of cancer-killing poison…the looks of concern on their faces, how they take care of their person, the conversations taking place. Watching the nurses move from patient to patient checking on their IV’s and switching out meds, and confirming name and date of birth so they don’t make any mistakes. It hurt my heart today seeing so many of us afflicted by this hell we are walking out every.damn.day.
I was grateful my momma was with me today. I didn’t have to sit there alone. Because some of the people in there were.
I didn’t leave feeling too much better than when I went in, but sometimes the benefits of the interventions will take time. I can’t expect immediate magic. But when I got home, my husband and brother in law had procured for me some medical marijuana and so we gave that a try this evening. The nausea is significantly lessened…praise God. The heartburn is pretty terrible but I’ll take that over bad nausea and feeling like puking any day (although it kind of feels like the ‘chicken and the egg’ scenario where heartburn can cause nausea and nausea can cause heartburn…so I’m not sure what is what other than the fact that my nausea is definitely less than it has been the last two days). I’ll take it as a win.
And we will just take it day by day to see what that day requires and hopefully we will start seeing more tick marks on the ‘win’ side of things.
Happy Thanksgiving 2018 :: 11/22/18 :: Post 435
Happy Thanksgiving. This year I was able to be with my crazy fun extended family. We ate….oh how we ate. We played games and met new friends and laughed….a lot.
It was so what my soul needed.
I’m grateful this year looks different than last. I’m grateful for being able to eat. And taste. And keep food down. For survival through the hell of chemo. For being resilient to continue to battle in the war against cancer. For family who has seen us through really dark times.
And we still have another Thanksgiving to go to on Saturday!! Bring on the food. Bring on the family. Bring on the celebrating the fact that this year looks different than last.
Gratitude Month Day 22 :: 11/22/19 :: Post 798
Writing every day has been so so good for me. I go into it thinking, ‘what has today held?… what I have I learned?… and what will I want to remember from this day in the event I go back and reread it?’
Two years ago, I was in my infusion center getting fluids in hopes that the extra hydration would help with the awful side effects. And two years ago, I wrote this description of my day. I find it really sad to read what I wrote but I also am grateful I was so descriptive: “Today I struggled more than usual with the emotional side of this evil disease. My favorite chair wasn’t available so I had to choose one where there were a few other women in the same area. (My favorite chair is isolated to just a row of 4 and a big TV is what is in front of me so I don’t have to see any other sick people). It was really hard being in the same space with other people fighting whatever cancer has rocked their world and changed their lives forever. How sickly we all look when we have to go to the bathroom and take our IV pumps with us…how slow we all walk…how weary we all look…how battle worn our bodies appear. Seeing friends and family members in there with their loved one as they are pumped full of cancer-killing poison…the looks of concern on their faces, how they take care of their person, the conversations taking place. Watching the nurses move from patient to patient checking on their IV’s and switching out meds, and confirming name and date of birth so they don’t make any mistakes. It hurt my heart today seeing so many of us afflicted by this hell we are walking out every.damn.day.”
A year later, what a difference there was: “I’m grateful this year looks different than last. I’m grateful for being able to eat. And taste. And keep food down. For survival through the hell of chemo. For being resilient to continue to battle in the war against cancer. For family who has seen us through really dark times.”
How I remember these days vividly. And how strange it feels to remember that these are MY days, MY experience, MY story.
Today was good. I got to see a couple of clients this morning and then my sweet friends took me out for my birthday. And now I get to rest for the rest of the night and all of tomorrow. Despite having to learn how to hurt while living life, Gratitude Month Day 22 – I am grateful for all that MY story has taught me.