radiation

Lucky number 13. Fell on St. Patrick’s Day! Ten days left. Two weeks.

In honor of lucky 13, in addition to my bright green radiation smock, I picked up green shamrock donuts for the kiddos. Then I picked up chocolate stout cupcakes filled with Bailey’s icing. Yes, please.

I’m just plugging along.

Not a lot of news.

I keep meaning to write about all my new skin products – maybe tomorrow.

Little bit organized again – she is a MACHINE! Her career goals are to be a home organizer to the stars. Ha! Right now, she can settle for our chaos.

The boys left to work cows. They were giddy! A bunch of new babies were born so that makes them the perfect size for two 11 year old cowboys! They left with the jeans, boots, spurs, holster and cowboy hats. Mercy. Can’t wait to see photos from that (we girls opted out).

I worked all day. I’m fatigued but still able to keep up so I am grateful!

The next few days we’re going to sit outside and soak up the perfect weather in my happy place. The backyard. The timing on that remodel couldn’t have been more perfect.

I’m tired.

So much so that when I finished radiation today and didn’t have any morning work appointments, I crawled into bed and went back to sleep.

I drive to MD Anderson West every morning. I leave the house at 7 am. After checking in, going through radiation (which is brief, thankfully), I’m home by 8.

With most of southeast Texas on spring break this week, my work calendar is lighter than usual.

When I got home this morning, I crawled back into bed. Jeans, sweater and all.

Shockingly, I fell asleep. That’s how tired I am. I can never go back to sleep. I’m incapable of napping or sleeping in the daylight. Yet here I was, stone cold asleep until my family got home from the farm at 11 am.

I plugged back in and went to work.

But I’m going to have to be careful to only do social media in VERY SMALL DOSES this week. Seeing everyone on these wonderful spring break trips nearly threw me into hysterial tears. I can’t take the kids anywhere because of FREAKIN RADIATION every morning at 7:30.

Sigh.

Thank you for enduring my pity party. It’s over. There’s gobs of people who can’t go on spring break either so let me put away the world’s tiniest violin.

I offered to take them to Top Golf tomorrow. Or do something fun that doesn’t take too long because I have the stamina of an 80 year old right now. Actually, if we’re comparing my stamina to my 80 year old father in law, it’s way less.

Twelve days left.

My Friday sadness carried over into the weekend.  It was a nice weekend.  Little bit won her last basketball game.  The baby had his best friend over to play. We baked. I hosted a little shower planning session in my backyard with fabulous women.  Church was wonderful.

A good weekend. 

But underneath, I still was holding my Day 5 sadness.  Feeling tears ready to surface at any moment.

As I drove in for Day 6 treatment this morning, I was pretty grumpy.  How do I keep doing this?  My skin hurting. A cavern inside. 

Instead of calling my best friend like I usually would, I opened my Bible Gateway app. We’ve been reading the Psalms, so I intended to listen some of the Psalms as I drove. Yet when I opened the app, there was 2 Corinthians 1. The scripture you see above was the “daily” scripture that appeared on the home page. 

Maybe I was in need of a bit of comfort, so I clicked on that chapter.  Then I pressed play (I love that you can listen to scripture being read on this app). 

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 

I heard:  AHA!  Of course.  This is just like everything else.  The divorce, infertility, job loss, and all the other challenges.  This is what will allow me to comfort those in trouble with the comfort God is providing for me. I’ll understand. I’ll be equipped. And… He is the God of ALL COMFORT. That’s comforting.

It continued:

For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.

I heard:  We are sharing in His sufferings.  C’mon, this isn’t new info.  His skin was ripped and torn in a way mine will not be.  Endurance.  Remember? The race I’m supposed to be running.  Endurance doesn’t come easy.  (Patient endurance, REALLY doesn’t come easy.) I’m wishing it did right now.  But this suffering isn’t done in a vacuum – it comes with the supernatural comfort only He can give.  He is providing it right now. In this moment.

There’s more:

We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us again. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many.

I heard:  Paul despaired of life itself.  He knows what it was like to be in the bell jar. But it happens, his trials, my trials, all of it SO WE MIGHT NOT RELY ON OURSELVES BUT ON GOD.  Who, by the way, RAISES THE DEAD!  Remember? He’s granted us the same power. Remember? I’m not supposed to rely on myself.  This is too much for me. But I have this hope.  In the depth of my soul: that He will continue to deliver me.  PLUS – look at that little end part sister! Then MANY will give thanks ON MY BEHALF because HE ANSWERED SO MANY PRAYERS.  His work in my life is an answer to the prayers of many.  I have the incredible chance to be a walking, talking show of His gracious favor in answer to the prayers of many.

Sigh. 

Overwhelming. 

It’s too much.

The tears that were always there on the precipice all weekend started leaking.  But not from sorrow today.  From joy.

That’s. Not. All. 

Are you sitting down? 

My little Max McLean Bible app just kept reading, and then he got to this at the tail end of the chapter:

For the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who was preached among you by us—by me and Silas and Timothy—was not “Yes” and “No,” but in him it has always been “Yes.” For no matter how many promises God has made, they are “Yes” in Christ. And so through him the “Amen” is spoken by us to the glory of God. Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

Have you been reading all my radiation day posts by chance?  Let me take you back to Day 2 – Sealed.

I wrote about what God was revealing to me for my Lenten journey.  This whole become less thing.  He gave me the word SEALED. I was looking up all these passages because I thought I was going to share them with a friend of mine.  They were given to me FOR ME too. 

The one that has been holding my attention these past two weeks? IT WAS IN 2 CORINTHIANS 1.  Right there at the end.

After we get all this incredible news about the God of ALL COMFORT who is with us in our suffering, we get this explosive piece of news. God makes us stand firm. Anoints us.  Sets His seal of ownership on us. God puts HIS SPIRIT IN US as a deposit. As a guarantee of the hope to come. 

That about sent me over the edge. 

The goodness of God. 

Who reminds us in the exact moment we need to hear it that He knows and understands our suffering.  He is right with us to comfort us. 

AND? We are His.  Sealed. 

I marched right into that appointment with an entirely different disposition.  To my friendly Monday radiation team.  I love this team – all these super fun, upbeat women.  Very efficient.  In and out with cheer. 

Fresh week.

New attitude.

Let’s go.  Sealed, comforted, and ready to stand firm.

I’m doing a terrible job writing every day of my radiation. So this is late. But the truth is, yesterday was so hard, I didn’t have it in me to write.

All week of radiation I stayed upbeat. Positive. Each day was another day down.

But Friday, Day 5, not so good.

My skin has started hurting. I’m moisturizing every day, so I had hoped I could hold that off longer.

Students sometimes train with the technicians during my radiation, and I had these young men trainees on Thursday and Friday. It didn’t hit me as hard Thursday, but Friday it was so depressing. These little 20something guys leaning nearly on top of my cut up breasts trying to line up the damn radiation machine.

I have been fortunate to have an all female team of doctors, which in this particular circumstance, I really needed, but I’m not odd about male doctors. My fertility doc was a man. My high risk perinatologist for the babies was the most unbelievable male doctor, exactly who I needed. But on Friday morning, I did not need some boy baby student in the room.

After staying very ‘glass is half full,’ Friday was sad.

Every single day I walk in and someone is pulling my tunic off. As my best friend was distinguishing that one time you go in to have a baby versus what I’m facing now. “Now you’re being subject to this every day, you’re laid bare in front of strangers, for 23 days.” (Then she went on to say that she was sorry she couldn’t be there with me, and started laughing and said, “Well no, that would be weird too.” It did make me laugh.)

But that term resonated with me. I felt bare. Outside and inside.

It hurts to wear the seat belt in my car.

My forearms are hurting at night because they lay against this hard plastic table over my head and the pressure makes them hurt even after I leave.

This is a hard step you have to go through in the healing. But it sucks.

Today was good with gorgeous weather and little bit winning her final basketball game and the baby having a friend over to play. But I’m tired. Sadness makes you tired.

I’ll get better. Of course I will. I’m mindful of the dozens have miracles which have unfolded along this way. And of how much more fortunate my path is than other breast cancer warriors. Day 5, though, was crap.

Moving on.