It is 6 am and since I am NOT a morning person, it again seems like a cruel joke that I should be asked to rise and shine, only to sit in a chemo chair for 5 hours. Surgery is almost in the rear view mirror despite the long snaking scar that runs down my belly. Recovery was long, according to my personal timetable. My son chastised me for having patience with everyone but myself. I realized I should have been praying for paitence, instead of recovery.
Although I walk through the valley of the shadows, I truly am not afraid. It may be because I have walked this valley before 24 years ago and am convinced the path has been worn smooth by those who came after me and the advances of medicine since. Once again, it should be patience that I ask for because all I want is to have this next phase of treatment, also in my rear view mirror. I am ready.
Cancer has no hold on me. I have a team of angels, family, and a legion of friends that have surrounded me. I have received a barrage of cards that I have taped to my wall that I remind myself of their committment to fight beside me. Spring has sprung through my house with flowers to brighten each day of my journey. Chemo care packages from those who live away have arrived in the last few days, filled with goodies to tempt my appetite, ease my tired body and books to feed my mind and fill my time in the chair. Yesterday, a Nutirbullet arrived at my door with a recipe for a high powered antioxidant juice. I will come home to a clean house and a hot meal. My children are escorting me to the valley, and friends will bring coffee and treats while I look out to the beautiful Oregon forests that are outside the chemo wing.
My bag is packed with good books, Netflix ready to stream on my ipad and I have treated myself to a year of MLB.com. This baseball fanatic will be able to watch any and every game in the season, including Spring Training games. My goal is to be sitting in the stands next year in Arizona, with these rainy days ahead nothing but a memory. Not a bad one, but one filled with a team of people who love me and have reminded me that I have to live a VERY LONG life to repay all the kindness that I have been given.
So bring it, Cancer. You have met your match and since so many of my team are under the age of 21, you will also be a word that is not longer a death sentence. My neice sent me a card that says it all.
FIGHTER, FIERCE, FANTASTIC I've got a whole different "F" word for cancer!