Tuesday evening

   

     It's Tuesday evening in the Meadows and I'm sitting here in the darkened living room, listening to some Leonard Cohen music, whilst the washing machine churns it's heart out downstairs washing up baby laundry and whilst Ava slumbers peacefully in her swing while down the hall her big sister (boy, she looks so big lately!) is finally asleep after holding her own private concert for the last half hour - that girl loves to sing and we encourage that wholeheartedly!  And it's peaceful and quiet and mellow and just a good ending to a better day.  On a positive note, I was finally able to muster the energy and vim to take a stroll with Ava and my mother-in-law in our neighbourhood to finally enjoy some of the crisp fall breezes and the beautiful fall colours. 
       Fall is usually one of my favourite seasons but this year somehow, the melancholy and sadness of things dying off is contributing a bit to my mood being a bit low.  Maybe the start of some Seasonal Affective Disorder (seeing as it's dark already at 4:45!), a mix of postpartum thoughts and dealing with the whole situation that at times seems so big that it threatens to engulf us in the waves of its repercussions.  I do feel truly that I'm not always aware of all the ways that our new life has affected us - little and big things - but they tend to pop up during the day - when you're on first name basis with many of your doctors and they call you at home at 7pm, when your rings no longer fit properly because you've lost so much weight (sure wasn't a problem when I first received them years ago - the opposite in fact), when your three year old doesn't even bat an eye at your PICC line, when it's normal to have visitors at your home almost every day, when I probably don't even remember how to cook since we've been so well provided for in the past months, when I don't remember what it's like to have the drag of having worked an exhausting 12 hour shift because life is about 2 and 3 hour sleep cycles with a newborn (don't get me wrong, I love that she's here absolutely and wouldn't trade her for the world!), when a sharps container in the corner of our bedroom is a necessary piece of equipment (only a few weeks left for blood thinners, hopefully!), when your finger nails are pitted and lined due to stress and chemotherapy (who knew that that was called Beau's lines - look it up sometimes - but ignore all the other gross nail pictures that will pop up!).   All those whens and yet, somehow, it doesn't even describe how last week was...
      Last week was... hunker down and try to survive week.  I will admit, maybe due to pregnancy hormones coursing through my veins or due to better anti-nausea meds during pregnancy, that I was relatively spared from the typical symptoms of nausea that a lot of my fellow cancer sufferers experience in the past but wow, I sure got a taste of how bad things could be this past week.  Almost immediately as I settled into my chair and as the first hour of chemo was making its way down the IV tubing and into my body, I started feeling kinda rocky - a general unwell, malaise, nausea, pukey sorta feeling that never was on the board before.  So I spent the rest of chemo ignoring my poor mother who came along as company and totally failing the usual crossword entertainment break and hunkering down under a pile of those lovely heated blankets to try to shut out the world.  And the nausea just got better as the week progressed - I will admit to feeling pretty overwhelmed and desperate last week as not just nausea hit, but pain in all sorts of areas - my hip, my back, my scar on my stomach, headaches, mouth sores and frustrations with my hair constantly thinning (oh, yes, this chemo is just supposed to thin my hair - it's sure doing a good job of that - I tend to find hairs all over the place which drives me a little bit insane!).  And so I survived on a cocktail of meds, a few crackers and sips of water, lots of naps, lots of people helping to hold Ava and a husband who patiently gave me hugs and encouragement as I plowed through this first week back in the trenches.  And emotionally, yes, emotionally, that was probably the hardest - which was probably the thing that I was not nearly prepared for - the tears just kept coming, I felt drained, empty, with nothing to give to my family, my dear ones who had to suffer through with me - and anger sometimes, a lot, that they even have to face this reality with me and can't just have a mom, a wife, who can play, laugh, eat and enjoy time together - and we were brought back to the truth that every day is a gift, that we have to treasure moments, however small or insignificant they may appear, to grasp at the beauty in a day, in a smile, in a moment, because all too quickly, time passes and we need to remember that our lives, our days, our moments are given to us in measured amounts, that our Heavenly Father knows the length of our days and yes, even how those days are playing out and in the midst of the darkness, that He is still there, in the valley of the shadow, in the places of suffering and despair, He is there, carrying, holding, upholding even when we don't feel it.  And that is truly our comfort.  And yes, it's maybe easy to sit now and talk about last week as a past thing, but it will likely keep happening so I pray for the strength to go through again and again, to keep my head up in the deep waters, and to keep up hope that this treatment will be to blessing, to hope, to healing, even when it seems dark and grim. 
    With thanks dedicated to all who have been my support in the past weeks, parents, friends, my kids, my dear spouse, our church and work communities, to our God who knows our every need and gives grace and strength even when we don't realize it....