Bye Bye chemo!

Dare I say it?  I think I'm finally done with chemo!!  I had kind of a false alarm on Monday morning, though.  I woke up early in the morning laying perfectly still doing my usual "week after chemo" mental checklist.  Do I feel nauseated?  No.  Is there any type of weird burning sensation in my chest?  No.  Am I uncomfortable in any way?  No.  Am I hungry?  Yes.  Do I want to see my kids?  Yes.  Do I have enough energy to get out of bed?  Yes.  Tears sprung to my eyes, and I immediately hit my knees and said the most thankful prayer I can ever remember saying.  

Then I got out of bed and saw this on the living room floor:

Now, if you have never received a love note written entirely out of legos, well... I don't know what to tell you.  Trevor is pretty good.  Not just pretty good.  He's been amazing throughout this whole ordeal.  He continues to love me through all my cranky sicky days, and has to pick up a LOT of slack around here.  I'm so lucky. :)

But, dagnabbit, I was still sick.  But now I think I'm better.  What a difference a couple of days makes.  Anyways, I'll spare the talk of how I got sick again, and all the throwing up, and the 4 hour visit to the doctor to get more meds and fluids because of my dehydration.  That's over and done, right?  

I really want to share a little ditty from another cancer survivor's blog that I recently discovered.  It's from chemobabe.com.  She's pretty insightful and has been down the journey I'm on, and it's helpful for me to hear and learn from others' experiences.  I LOVED the following metaphor:

Chemotherapy as a treatment is like walking along and arriving at a great chasm in my path. I can’t see the bottom but am told that I must go forward into the pit if I want to continue on with my life. So I reluctantly slide down into that chemo-hole, not sure what snakes or rats or crags or spiders might hurt me along the way down, not knowing exactly where the bottom lies, whether its made of soft mud or hard concrete. I brace myself for the bottom and, once I hit, I recover some, gather up my strength. Then I scale my way back out, climbing toward light and life, looking to find solid ground again. Arriving back on land, perhaps scarred, scared, weary, and even bitten, I must walk forward again, in order to actively choose my life. Soon I face another chasm, another chemo-hole, which may or may not be like the previous one. In general, I have been told, the pits will get nastier as I progress on this path, but I also learn some crag-avoiding tricks and ways to break my fall. But down I go, and somehow, once again, I must try to find my way out of that darkness, knowing that I will crawl back into the light, only have to sink down again.

The time spent at the bottom of the pit is the hardest. There is a moment of time, after I have landed at the bottom and have had the wind knocked out of me, where I am stunned and confused, not quite able to take anything in. But then I get this fighting feeling and want to scramble out with as much might as I can muster. My coming to usually involves hearing my children’s voices, whether in joy or distress. I resent being sidelined from their lives. As soon as I am able, I feel compelled to get out of the hole, no matter how battered down I have been, if only to hear about their day, brush their hair, or ooo and aaah at their latest art project.

She paints a good picture of what it feels like.  Part of the torture of chemo is that you voluntarily allow the poison to drip in to your body.  It feels so wrong, but you know it has to be done.  And yes, each cycle of chemo was worse than the last.  And I completely resented being "sidelined" from my kids' lives.  I still resent it, but I've come to some cool realizations that are helping with these feelings.    

Let me give you a teeny tiny snapshot of what's been going on around here:  Monday afternoon my parents and Cavin arrived to help me and to take care of the girls while Trevor drove down to pick up Isaac in Centralia.  They cooked, cleaned, read to me, played with the girls, and put them to bed.  They let me nap, bathe, relax and heal.  

Tuesday morning, my friend Leah comes over in the morning.  She makes the kids waffles, then bundles the girls up in snow clothes and walks them home to her house, as she is watching them for me all day.  Enter Elise and Michelle.  They have just battled the snowy roads to come clean my house for me.  I am on the phone with a nurse when they arrive.  The nurse wants me to come in to the hospital right away, the doctor is going to want to see me.  So we send Isaac down to Cindy's house for the day to play, and Trevor drives me to the hospital.  My friends stay at the house and continue deep cleaning, locking up after they finished.  After 4 hours at the hospital, completely exhausted but feeling better, we return to the house to find our driveway/sidewalks have been shoveled for the 2nd day in a row, thanks to Leah's husband.  About 45 minutes later, DeeDee arrives with dinner.  15 minutes after that, the girls come home.  It's now 5pm, and Barby knocks on the door.  She is here to help serve and clean up dinner.  I actually had to call Kim and tell her we wouldn't need her to come over at 7 to help get kids ready for bed, and that we'd take a rain check.

Did I mention this is just a SNAPSHOT?  This is the kind of help our family has been receiving.  We are so incredibly blessed to be surrounded by loving family and friends.  The tears flow freely as I type this, and I'll try to explain:

Have you ever had an assignment at church that you really liked, then just when you were feeling confident and comfortable in your position, you get released from that job and someone else takes over?  Or for those who have gone on missions, do you remember the weird feeling you'd have when you were transferred to another area, and you had to leave behind the people you loved that you were teaching?  These are small ways I believe the Lord is teaching us that this is HIS work, not ours.  We can live our lives serving Him and doing our very best, but no matter how much we try to make it about us, it's not.  He is in charge and we can help Him or not.  

I feel that while I have been "sidelined" so to speak during a small portion of my childrens' childhood, Heavenly Father has been orchestrating things masterfully and has not missed a beat.  My children are being so very well cared for.  My children are HIS work!  I actually feel like I am getting free parenting lessons from all the wonderful women who have been helping me.  I just watch and learn.  My house still gets clean.  We eat lovingly prepared meals.  We are being taken care of.  I'm not saying that I'm being replaced or "transferred", or anything like that.  But I'm coming to realize I shouldn't worry so much and that the Lord is so involved in a very real way.  This doesn't diminish at all the efforts of the friends and family around us.  Quite the opposite.  I feel like they are angels!  Doing the Lord's work.

I do wish I could do my mamma proud and be a good "thank you" note writer right now.  This practice was deeply drilled into me from my childhood.  Not that I was ever perfect at it, but I at least know enough to feel guilty when I don't write one!  I'm sure after reading this, mom will volunteer to come over and help me hammer out a bunch of 'em. :)