Do not be anxious about anything...

I never imagined I'd begin my writing career by preparing a blog post on the first day of my wife's chemotherapy treatment. She's had a challenging day. It's been difficult on many fronts: getting chemo after giving it to her patients for all these years; wearing a silly little holster with a bottle and a tube, getting told a million things about what she can and cannot do. She's got an extreme sensitivity to cold, apparently. Anything from the refrigerator is out. So she drank a lukewarm gingerale while we caught up on our day.

Things took longer than expected in the chemo suite today. Danielle and her mom were there from ten until about 2:30. I was at work and in a meeting when Danielle sent me a picture of herself at around noon. I was impressed, she was smiling, giving me the thumbs up. But they had just started then. I guess it took them a while to mix the drug and set her up. By the time Martha and I got home Danielle had enough time to think about how her freedom has been constrained by the surgery and this treatment. Someone had brought us dinner, but Martha wanted toast; three months ago we would have fought about that, but now? It seems like such a silly thing to fight about right now. 

Oma had made Martha a little sleeve like the one Danielle wears to cover up her PICC line. It had some cute lady bugs on it. Danielle thought they could bond over this after a long day, but Martha burst out crying. "I want butterflies," she said. Like mom's. Right. So much for the hallmark moment. So dinner was tense. We read James 4 after dinner, and the story of Jesus walking to the disciples on the water. We sang "Our Father" and "Praise be to God from whom all Blessings Flow". Martha went outside to play, and Danielle and I faced off for a bit. 

The most frustrating about all of this is the way it slowly and almost inevitably wears you down day by day. Wanting to garden, to eat ice-cream, to swim: all of these things are verboten. So many things that bring Danielle joy are excluded by this disease and her treatment. That can be frustrating. I liked to think I had some choice nuggets of wisdom to share on these points, but it came out all wrong. Danielle retreated to the bedroom while I went outside to pick some blackberries with Martha in the garden. That too ended in discord when I came out with the doekie to clean her hands and face.

Martha was pretty vocal about the 'baby bottle' of chemo that was hanging around Danielle's neck. "I don't like that, Mom." We don't like it either, but we tell her it's medicine that will help Mom feel better. That's okay, but later we wonder whether she will be confused in a few months when Mom is still getting her medicine. So far, Martha's medicine has been limited to Paw Patrol band-aids and the occasional grape-flavoured tylenol. It's pretty hard for a two year old to wrap her head around six months of chemo. 

Danielle and I feel we walk a fine line: how much to say without scaring or alienating people, and being true to our experience. Do we spare people the details so that they don't feel sorry or awkward for asking? Do we pretend that everything is okay? Do we level with people despite the fact that they may not be prepared to hear what we have to say? The cancer is always there. It's always lingering there in the background. We go out or watch a movie for a few hours and when its done, when we're back home, the reality sets in again. 

We are grateful for the many prayers which have gone up again today, for the meals and cards and texts. It's all very much appreciated. But we are much in need of the comfort and peace which only God can provide. We catch glimpses of it and sometimes it may seem we possess it completely until we enter another valley. We request prayers from the saints for the very real, day by day presence of God in our midst, within our home, that he may lift us up especially when we are feeling marooned or adrift. Danielle is in need of prayer that she may find peace along the path and that she may be free from the side-effects of the chemo in the days ahead. It's difficult to pray, to even say the words when the disease looms up like a mountain before you. But yesterday we read, Philippians 4. Verse six and seven say, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." We are in need of prayer for peace, but also in need of prayer that we too might be able to present our requests at his throne of grace. 

Chemo starts...first treatment of many.

A sleeve like Mom's...she likes the ladybugs now.

This is what the "baby bottle" of chemo looks like - we thought it might be interesting to some...it slowly sucks itself dry over the next 46 hours and gets detached by the home care nurse on Thursday near noon time.