To say the second round of chemo was fun or smooth would be a lie. Praise God, I didn't end up in the ICU with neutropenia (LOW white blood cells--that happened round one in California), but I did end up having to cut my course short due to neurotoxcicity. Evidently my brain threw a great party (hallucinatinons about putting Christmas presents away--a control freak even from my hospital bed!, a seizure-like episode that resulted in a fall and knee injury, and six doses of a really nasty anti-toxin that turns the majority of one's body fluids blue--if you're young enough, insert the theme to the "Smurfs" here). The mercy to me is that I don't remember any of it. My poor mom, on the other hand, thank God she was bedsitting me that night and that the doctor "just happened" to walk in during my party--he was able to witness my behavior and get help that much faster. I also had the usual fun of nausea, exhaustion, chemo brain and extreme blurred vision that prevents doing much of all except lying in bed (not one of my favorite pastimes).

Despite all this, I still can't say enough about Moffitt. What a place of compassion and professional excellence. I'm ready to take my clinical pharmacist home with me. My care was exceptional.

Enough about the cancer. My kids and husband made it to Florida and we are enjoying time together before dh starts his new job on Monday. I'm praying his eyes continue to light up when he speaks of a new work environment, even with all of the challenges ahead.

We were sneaking in an early morning pillow talk this morning. While we see God's hands EVERYWHERE in all of what we are going through--getting into specialists in record time, being able to bless friends with much needed furniture, selling a car to friends on the DAY their second car gives up the ghost--the move and treatment has been full of trials as well. I even got a beautiful note and gift from a cousin I haven't seen in ten years that moved me to tears.

However, an expected layoff (with thirteen weeks of severance pay) didn't come through with the other company, and my husband resignation also cancelled out a bonus that he had been working on for the better part of three years. We haven't had a nibble on our house in Arizona, and despite leaving our house in amazing condition; we're moving into a house that needs significant TLC. Oh, did I mention that my husband's driver's license was misplaced in the flight from Phoenix to Tampa? Praise God he has a passport.

Part of me wants a BIG miracle. The call from the doctors saying they made a mistake and that I really don't have to drag myself and my family through four more rounds of chemotherapy. The financial windfall that will make the down payment on the van we could use so much, or the TV that died on the moving truck before it even got loaded, the washer and dryer upgrade, a nicer refrigerator for my lovely new (and soon to be painted!) kitchen. I want the realtor to call TODAY with the offer on the house in Phoenix that will relieve my husband of the burden of paying two mortgages right now. For my hair to miraculously grow back overnight, for me not to have to sport my "Michael Jackson" protective mask at Target and put up with looks from deeply sympathetic to avoidingly horrified.

Then it hits me. Well, not so much hits me, but the still, small voice whispers, "My grace is sufficent for you". And when it all comes down (and it has), the miracle is Christ in me. It's eternal life. It's not having to do all of this bitter and terrified. Its knowing that me, and most of the people in my life have the choice to never be the same again through all of this. It's my friends making comments about character traits that I certainly can't see in myself (extending grace to others, Laurie?) but I know only God can be sanctifying me through.

What's next, you may ask? If you're still reading the book, it's a round of test appointments Tuesday, a new port placement (the double, cadillac-model) the following Tuesday, hopefully the boxes and furniture arrive on the 18th. Chemo starts again most likely on the 20th, and we're praying for some new brilliant protocol to try that wont' make things quite so hairy. Pray for wisdom for my sweet doctor--there's just not much research into the whole soft-cell sarcoma of an internal organ thing for anyone to work with. I am research :-).

The adventure continues. Today I choose to embrace my miracle. How about you?

Labels: Cancer, Reflections