These days when people ask me how I feel, I have to stop and take inventory. It's that already-but-not-yet thing. Already better, but not yet well. I am glad to report that the chemo toxins are noticeably decreasing, although not in a straight line. I no longer have to steam my eyes open every morning, even though my eyes still sting and water. My hands and face only burn in the evenings, and they never peel. And there is a sort of peach fuzz on top of my head. On the other hand, my fingernails are falling off.
Radiation has begun, and is much easier to tolerate than chemo. I have only had a couple of days when I felt so exhausted that I thought I couldn't move – and that didn't last all day. Though it was kinda spectacular when I fell asleep at work – during a phone call. Luckily my boss laughed.
Those episodes have been a merciful indicator of things to come. At church, I am working on a production of Mendelssohn's Elijah, which is going up in mid-June near the end of the radiation treatment. Now I understand what it means that I will experience a debilitating level of weariness most of the time. So I'm able to view my work on Elijah as more of an exercise in equipping others and less of an opportunity to direct.
This weekend, the Lord surprised me with a scholarship to the Christian Writers’ Conference in Estes Park. Respite, fellowship and hope for future usefulness! His kindness and your continued prayer strengthen me for this last nasty phase of treatment.
Zac Hicks has an intriguing analysis of the value of using the Common Lectionary as an aid to Bible study and worship. He rightly points out that this is one tool of the Holy Spirit to knit the scattered bones of the church back together as so many read, study, pray and worship around the same texts week by week.
It is also a way to be joined together in ordering our time, all of us dancing to the same delight in the same celebrations throughout the year; all of us pacing to the measure of His work rather than to the commemorations of our various States or to purely personal memorials and agendas.
I have been working on a cycle of daily Bible studies based on the daily readings from the Lectionary. The set for Lent is complete, and will soon be available for personal or group study. Below is a sample lesson. I'd love to hear your comments. Is it clear? Easy to use? Does it draw out the themes that echo among the Old and New Testament readings for the day?
Ps. 35, 148; Romans 11:25-36; Deuteronomy 30:11-20
Discussion & Study
1.What point does Moses emphasize about the Law in Deut. 30:11 – 14?
2.Where does David turn for justice when he is oppressed, according to Ps. 35?
3.Who were David’s most painful enemies according to Ps 35:12 - 17?
4.On what basis does he make his plea?Why can he expect God to take up his case?
5.Who had become the enemies of God’s people in Paul’s day (Rom 11:28)?
Comments
Our worst enemies are the ones we helped and trusted.The ones we counted as friends or family. David’s anguish is increased by the nearness of his enemies. But in his pain, he does not take matters into his own hands.
David pictures himself in the Court of Heaven. He asks for the Judge to plead his cause on the basis of His covenant, and proceeds to give evidence of his oppressors’ abuse of that covenant. He lays before God, his complaint and trusts in God’s justice and mercy.He calls for God’s punishment on the wicked and His defense of the righteous, but David understands that, particularly in the case of once-friend enemies, he himself might not know who the wicked are. “Judge me,” he says.
God knows not only the outward violations, but the inward ones as well. He knows the particular wounds and rottenness in the oppressor’s heart. He is the only one who can truly mete out justice. But God’s purposes in His justice go far beyond simple retribution. His justice not only gives the wicked his just desserts and the oppressed relief, but it produces restoration of the offender.
Israel in Paul’s day had become the enemy in God’s bosom and the God-fearing Gentiles had taken David’s place. Paul exhorts these Gentile converts to take up David’s wisdom. For God is not merely shaming and confounding covenant-breakers, but He is preparing an unprecedented union as well. Because of God’s rejection of Israel, both Israel and non-Israel know the wrath of God, so that those physical descendants of Abraham and those spiritual descendants of Abraham who fear God will be unified by their experience of God’s grace.
They will all be Israel together, beyond all pettiness, beyond all betrayal, beyond all pain.
Does one near you oppress you?Do not seek revenge.Lay your complaint before God, who is just beyond Justice. His grace will not gloss over wickedness; will not merely excuse the destroyer. But His justice will produce real healing and real unity.
So I've just completed the last cycle of the bad-boy chemo drugs. I'm looking forward now to a week of getting ahead of the damage they have done to healthy tissues as well as cancerous ones. My naturopath said this week that it's the patients who feel the effects of chemo the most who seem to have the lowest recurrence rates. I certainly hope he's right in my case!
Tomorrow, I'll begin the Herceptin and Avastin infusions alone. They aren't the ones causing all the awful side effects. And I don't have to prepare for them with a several-day fast. The Monday after that, I'll begin radiation - every day for 6 - 7 weeks.
So the burning questions are: How will that hit me - will I tan, burn or glow in the dark? Will I lose ALL my fingernails in the wake of chemo? How soon will there be life after naptime? and...(cheesy organ chord)did all this work?
Really, only time will tell.
So today, I'm celebrating the no-fasting zone by having dinner at the Olive Garden.
I never really appreciated eyebrows properly til now. They let you know where your face begins and they punctuate your expressions. I'm glad I've still got mine - mostly.
On Monday, I had my last really toxic chemo! Like eyebrows, it marks the place where I can expect healing to begin. I will continue to have infusions every three weeks of herceptin and the experimental drug avastin, but they don't carry the toxic wallop of the full chemo treatment I've been getting.
Thank you for your prayers. I had no emergencies at this treatment. And while my face is burning, most people think I've just been out in the beautiful spring sunshine. It reminds me not to celebrate quite yet. I will still need to expect the full round of difficulties for the next three weeks. Then I can begin to make real headway against the damage done to my healthy systems by the chemo.
I will see the radiation oncologist in mid-April and find out what that regimen will entail.
I'm so grateful for a bit of a respite in last chemo cycle! This time my body has figured out new and sinister ways to demonstrate its total rejection of these toxins.
I had been looking forward to a full day of conversation and writing with Petra during the infusions, but while I was soaking in the ice water, the rest of my body broke out in a rash. The doctor responded with a massive dose of Benadryl. So much for conversation – though I think I remember saying some Mad Hatter-ish things as I dozed off. I was especially glad that Petra was with me, though, I would have had to call someone to drive me home.
Yesterday, my face went up like a torch and I spent most of the day wearing ice packs. Today, I'm able to get along with aloes alone, though I look like Godzilla. And then there is the amazing nausea. I have great nausea meds, but they all make me sleepy.
None of this has happened before in this way, so it's clear that it's a whole new world this cycle. I have no real idea what to expect. But there are a number of things that won't change: the loving support of all of you, my determination to find new opportunities in my situation, and the mysterious purposes of God.
Closing in on the next to last chemo (cheers!).I will begin the pre-chemo fast on Saturday, and will have the infusion on Monday.My energy level is sustained much better during the fast now that I am drinking Kangen water.
In fact everything has been so much more bearable this cycle since they reduced the dosage of the most toxic drug. Sure, my eyes still water & sting and my hands and feet feel sandpapered...and I often feel after eating that I'd rather return dinner than digest it. But everything has ratcheted down a notch.It's been suffering more on the level of having a bad case of the flu – so ordinary that I have been unable to find anything to mock. (Or maybe it's that chemo-brain has finally set in and prevents me from seeing things creatively...Ack!)
So instead, I thank God for a bit of respite, and for the end being in sight. Petra will be home on Spring Break for this chemo treatment, and we are planning to spend the time writing the libretto for her musical tribute to America's soldiers. Friends and relations have not forgotten to encourage me with cards, meals, flowers and kindness through this long, long distress. Every day something more to thank God for.
Robert reminded me the other day that God's laughter scatters and destroys His enemies.He is not laughing because they are destroyed, but they cannot stand before His mighty mirth. So it is not so much my laughter that matters, though it may dimly reflect His in its power to quell my nausea. May God enjoy the deep comedy in my situation and may His laughter scatter all His enemies here. May none of my dear ones be among them.
I hadn't realized how discouraged I have been over the last chemo cycle until I tried to get ready to go to chemo this time. It was like getting a squalling 4 year old to settle down for the dentist. Finally, I had to call in the big guns: my mom AND my sister. They came to take me in and stayed to distract me with a scrapbooking project. Good thing, too, I really don't know if I could have frog-marched myself in for another round of dreadful.
My doctor was sympathetic, looking over all the difficulties of the past three cycles. She agreed to reduce the dosage of the worst chemo drug. And I soaked again in the icy water during that infusion. I'm also trying a regimen of drinking ionized, alkaline water that is a standard of care in Japan.
So far the worst symptom I've suffered this cycle is a short visual migraine. We are only two days into the cycle, so I'm still on alert for the next version of ick, but I'm grateful for no burning in the hands and feet and no infections elsewhere.
Did you ever notice how often David says in the Psalms, "I will sing", "I will give praise"? It's not "Isn't life grand? I feel like singing!" Looking at David's life, I notice that he had sad, hard times more often than not. His marvelous praises were more an act of will than a bubbly high-five. I'm there. I will give praise, even though I can't manage the sparkle.
While I continue to be daily grateful for almost pain-free hands and feet, the chemo toxins are having their revenge in new mischief. This round,they have hammered my mucus membranes, burning eyes, sinus, and digestive tract. I have contracted infections in sinus and urinary tracts. I am stumbling around like the Mummy, shedding the seared remnants of skin cooked in the last round, honking inarticulately, eyes too filled with rheumy tears to see where I'm going. Plus, I always look embarrassed; the burning is happening on my face.
I think I really scared the guy standing behind me in the grocery line. He happened to catch sight of my face under my hat brim as I turned to collect bags. He jumped back like a guilty three-year-old. Robert, who had very prudently driven, brazened it out, grinning at the guy as he took my load and escorted me to the car. Gotta love that boy!
To console myself, I am holing up (as much as possible)to draft that Great American Novel I've always wanted to write, as well as assisting Petra with the libretto for her musical tribute to the American soldier. Good times. The spirit is not fettered; it will take its own revenge.
When I started chemo, several friends who have survived cancer advised, "When you begin to lose your hair, just take charge and shave it all off. You need to have some way to take control." I liked that idea. Me over cancer. Me wryly living that dream all of us women have embraced on some dark bad-hair day of simply shaving it off and starting over. I'm a take-charge kinda gal.
But when the hair began to fall in sheets and clumps, I knew there was something else I needed to affirm. I have cancer because God is in charge, not me. All the things I have taken charge of have been taken from me - at least for a time - because I need to remember that truly I am NOT in charge. And however it looks from here and now, that is a good thing. So I needed something to remind me that I will seek God's direction and be still under His guidance.
No, I didn't shave. I tried to enjoy the emotional satisfaction of actually being able to tear my hair out when things got intense. But it wasn't fun enough. I knew I was just waiting in a trackless darkness for God to...do something.
Then Richard Fudge's Visual Prayer Journal project came across my radar through the Creative Edge Artist's Network. He and God arranged for the Journal to reach me during my most discouraged cancer time so far. Designing a page that reflects my determination to wait on God's direction helped me come to terms with the feelings of helplessness, and to frame my prayer for His will to be done in and through me.
The background is a map of the Arctic Ocean sea floor, the darkest, most trackless place on Earth, a place where even a compass is useless. As the tsunami of troubles obliterates all known landmarks, God's Will is the only true north my heart will seek.
Photo is True North by Kim Anderson, 2010. Click on photo for a larger view.
As you know, I particularly dreaded this chemo round. So God's comfort began before treatment on Sunday. Our church had a special Ascent service, a modern hymns movement concert and worship service that included communion, foot-washing, healing anointing and prayer. The music was beautifully done and encouraged vocal improvisation that I really enjoy. Then the music took a more contemplative turn as worshipers were invited to the ministries at the sides of the sanctuary. It is distressing to me when I am too sick to come to communion, so this was His gracious banquet to strengthen me. The prayer warrior I spoke with for prayer knew my general illness, but not the details. Unusually, she anointed my hands with oil, not my head. Coincidence? I thought it was all over, but an old friend pulled me aside and wanted to wash my feet, "because she loves me". It was an astonishing revelation of the Body of Christ. Some fed the spirit, some the heart and some...comforted the poor broken places they didn't even know they touched.
Chemo #3 yesterday began rather discouragingly, when the nurses had trouble accessing my port. The port is a surgically-implanted catheter into a major artery, giving access with minimum damage to veins to all the infusions I'll need plus allowing all the blood samples to be collected easily and with a minimum number of stabs. The tubing inside had gotten both kinked and clogged at the end. The nurses were creative and patient, but they still had to draw blood at another site. The good news is that they got it working for the chemo infusions - so no damage to peripheral veins. This could become a real problem, since this port should serve me for a whole year.
This time, I tried my naturopath's latest suggestion for minimizing the debilitating burning in my hands & feet. While I was taking the bad-boy chemo infusion, I immersed my hands and feet in icy water. This constricts the blood flow, limiting the amount of taxotere that is delivered to the afflicted areas.
I had a bit of swelling & burning in my hands last night, so I thought it hadn't worked. But I took some Apis (made from bee venom - go figure), and by morning, all the swelling & burning was gone. So maybe we have this under control. I will know for sure some time around Wednesday.
Meanwhile the "Merry Maids" from church came to make my house feel like home again. Not only did they clean it top to bottom, changing sheets and towels, but they left a fragrant soup in the crock pot, and my favorite flowers smiling out of surprising nooks throughout the house. Best of all, they left the benediction of their special prayers in all the living areas.
Mom & Dad completely rearranged their lives to schlep me around town in case I should be too dizzy after chemo to be a safe driver, and then to be with me overnight as well. My cup runneth over.
So last weekend, my wallet fell out of my pocket on a walk. Naturally it had disappeared when I retraced my path a few minutes later. I was closing bank accounts when it hit me. I'll need a new drivers' license...with a new OFFICIAL photo...of me! I ran through my options. I could go bald (aackk!), a scary proposition for everyone concerned. I could wear a hat...which they'd ask me to remove (see option 1). I could wear a scarf, be mistaken for a Muslim, and be profiled every time I go through airport security for the next 3 years. I had to go lie down.
Finally, a friend offered me a loaner wig in pretty much my hair color and a very different style than I am used to. All I had to do was put it on to feel like someone else. Would the DMV think I was someone else, too? I'd have to risk it. Luckily no one in officialdom suspected, and I will see the resultant photo next week. Will I have to mutilate or 'lose' it? Time will tell.
My next chemo is Monday. I dread this one than I expected. I can see that each treatment hits me harder than the one before. All my dear family will be out of town for most of next week.
But I'm not deserted. A group of ladies from church will be cleaning my house while I'm taking the treatment - I'll come home to a sparkling house. I will be leaning hard on my Mom & Dad for driving & emergencies - bless them! And our deacons are bringing over meals several times during the week.
Thanks for your prayers this weekend. Monday I took a turn for the better and today, I'm beginning to feel human again.
My Doc chirpily told me on Monday that all of my difficulties were within the bounds of normal expectations for this type of chemo. Well, the burning hands & feet concerned her enough to consider reducing my taxotere dose in the next round. While I'm glad to know that I won't be having to spend my most miserable days in the ER, I'm a little daunted by the prospect of anticipating this stuff in the ordinary course of affairs.
At this rate, I'm useless for a good ten days following chemo. I find being a virtual invalid as difficult as the actual symptoms. My good friend, Sandy, a breast cancer survivor, put things into perspective for me over coffee last week. "Asking for help is one of the things God wants you to be able to do."
It was an Aha! moment. These disabilities are practice for expanded ability. Ps 104 reminded me today that the waters that drowned and shrouded the mountains as they rose as scars on a broken earth, are the same waters that nourish man and nature today. All wine-gladdened feasts, all forested wonders, all mysteries of the seas flow from springs that frolic down the craigged remnants of that terrible judgment.
So once again, it's not about what we have been. It's about who we must become.
After receiving several distressed messages from friends whose computers don't want to be friends with CarePages, I agreed to post the CarePages notes here as well. If you want to subscribe here, you can set your preferences to email you when I post, just like on care pages. See the sidebar. Sorry to all of you who are seeing this for the second time. Here are the last two CarePages posts.
Chemo #2: Natural Therapies Pay Off
This second round of chemo started with 2 hours worth of labs and tests. (They took more blood than sparkly Edward.) But the results showed that the fasting across the chemo toxicity, and the naturopathic supplements (not to mention the prayers) have been having a significant protective effect. Most of my blood counts were still in the normal range, only two dropped just below the line. And my kidney function, which is expected to be impaired by the Avastin trial, actually increased!
I am very encouraged because the first round of chemo is an especially heavy dose the Doc calls the loading dose. The rest of the treatments are smaller maintenance doses.
Today I will start a few new supplements to combat the Hand & Foot syndrome reaction, which is already showing itself again. I am hoping to upload a music video of a setting for Ps 123, which I wrote, before my fingers get too burned to play. Ps 123 has become my theme song for cancer. I'm not in charge; I'm not in control, but I'll take my cues from the Master whose hand I watch intently.
Watch for it on my blog: www.mother-lode.blogspot.com If you subscribe, you can set your preferences to email you a note when I update there. You can also follow me on Twitter @KimAMotherLode. When I tweet about cancer observations I use the hashtag #kcancer
As the Stomach Turns
Well, this morning (Sunday) I woke to find the world spinning at a different rate than my insides. It must have been a riot watching me try to walk to the bathroom or even to sit up. Of course, none of my gentlemen watched (the girls are back at school). They leaned in to brace me to the straight path.
Against my better judgement, but in obedience to Dr's orders, I spent most of the day in the ER trying to run down the cause of my extreme dizziness & vomiting. The ER did its best to find out: CAT scans, x-rays, blood tests - the whole nine yards. In the end, they sent me home full of Benadryl and nausea meds with a big shrug of their collective shoulders. Jack says the good news is that they ruled out brain tumors and other shadowy horrors. I just feel sheepish - and slightly green.
I think the good news is that the dizziness has mostly passed. I have kept my dinner down, and had a good nap into the bargain. I was well enough this evening to go to a gathering of church musicians, in celebration of God's power not to let this disease have the last word in my life.
Tomorrow, I have a follow-up appointment with my oncologist. Please pray that she will have some insight into the dizzy episode, as it doesn't seem actually to be over. My hands & feet continue to blister, making basic chores mostly beyond me. Grr!
Faithful followers will recall that God served me up this little Short Term Project (STP) this fall: breast cancer. And that I resolved (not merely) to beat it. So I've been looking for the things I couldn't have done without it. Thought you might like to have a preliminary look at my current list.
Without cancer you can't:
Participate in clinical trials for new cancer drugs or natural therapies.
Tear out your hair in clumps for emotional release or personal revenge (ask me later).
Justify ordering people to fetch, carry, scrub, cook, open jars, or be your hands and feet without feeling guilty.
Dress like a pirate queen in a business setting and keep your job.
Inspire half a dozen co-workers to stick with the South Beach Diet through the Christmas holiday.
Find a moral imperative in a hair-do or lack thereof (story for another day).
See sunsets, snowstorms, Christmas trees or children's faces clearly enough.
Catch a glimpse of the Bride in all her compassionate splendor as she dispenses gifts from Christ's bounty.
