So tired. They say that every person has a different reponse to chemotherapy and that I’ll learn my own pattern soon. It looks like I’m not that bad off for the first 20 hours or so (I even ate dinner with my family Thursday night and read/commented on a few blogs Friday morning!), but then it hits me and hits me hard. I could hardly pull myself up yesterday to nibble on crackers or read to my children (but I did). I’m up early today with nausea and yet fatigue, so I’m hoping that I’ll be able to go back to sleep again soon. Today should probably be another recovery day.
Another 100 of you have posted the inflammatory breast cancer post, bringing the total to 224 so far. Many are family blogs, some are hobby blogs, a few even are outside the scope of mommy-family-crafting blogs. Huzzah. I hope that means that another woman will get help earlier.
Because the thing I didn’t share yesterday, and that I’m not exactly making calls to people about, is that we got a scare on Thursday. The resident (a doctor, but not MY oncologist) that we finally saw told me that it looks like the chemotherapy isn’t working. That the cancer is growing. That we’ll have to switch to a new set of drugs — including one that isn’t yet FDA-approved for breast cancer. Friends, she scared me. A lot. But when my oncologist did appear, she pronounced it, “not as bad,” as it had been described to her, and prescribed another cycle of the AC. Good news, in that there was no delay in my treatment on Thursday, but overall a scary day.
Which made the dancing later all that more beautiful. We must cling to hope. We must cling to faith. We must cling to each other.
I am reminded during this time of the importance of faith. I have always been a Christian, and pray daily, but this challenge is really bringing it to the forefront. As On the Horizon reminded me this morning, and dozens of you remind me daily, this is a fight that must be fought not only with drugs, and rest, and support from friends and family, but also with prayer. Horizons selected Phillipians 4:6 for her post: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” I have been anxious. I have even been scared. I have been praying, but I suppose I have not been giving it all up to God to carry for me, because I still worry. I still am afraid. I still flinch when I hear my friends talk about “next summer,” because for me it seems so binary — will I be alive and vibrant again, laughing, and taking my children to swimming lessons? Or ….
I can’t finish that last statement. All I can do is take the chemicals, rest, and pray. Pray that once again we will have joyous days together as a family, and a day without the omnipresent threat of cancer.
P.S. Canape says that a picture will help people know who to pray for. In that case, here we are. Taken the day before chemo, this is me and my baby son. The one who I want to know me as the mom who hugs him, loves him, plays with him, and grounds him when necessary. Not the mom he knows only from this journal and a few pictures. If you pray, please pray that this chemotherapy treatment works for me this time. I am, all the time, and I have to believe that it is helping.