Today was the anniversary of infusion day for Round 6. It was a milestone to get to, no doubt, but the days that followed were some of my lowest. I felt the memories heavy today and every sluggish step I took, despite doing very little, reflected that. And while the memories were weighty, I still remain grateful. 

And tonight I am grateful for Holly. A friend that defines genuine. And allows space for me to be, as well. More on that tomorrow.

Today I…
Sunday: Learned
Monday: Chose; said yes/no to
Tuesday: Loved
Wednesday: Prayed
Thursday: Was challenged by/to 
Friday: Am grateful for 
Saturday: Saw grace in

*Post 1027

Infusion Day. Round 6. Day 1 :: 1/22/18 :: Post 144

I texted with a friend today while I was at Infusion 6. 

Here is what was on my heart today: 

I’m in a weird place today of “glad I’m here” and “loathing being here”. Hopeful but also full of dread.

Have 12 more rounds after this with only 2 drugs that are supposedly easier so I’m anxious for what that will *actually* be like. 

Radiation starts February 19 and will be every day (M-F) till March 28. Another uncertainty. Another new difficult routine.

But each day is closer to treatment being a thing of the past and maintenance being the new norm. 

Also……I’m holding an interesting awareness – the permanence of cancer even tho my prognosis shows this is temporary.

Then my friend asked what permanence meant and here was my response:

Permanence in maintenance…. meds every day for 5-10 years….. appts every few months….. wondering if I’ll get clean results….. more waiting and wondering and wrestling with the fears of the unknowns…. no guarantees that I won’t have to do this again…. 

In addition to all of this – Practicing hope and faith over fear and dread. Scars, emotional and physical. Hoping I cling to the transformations…that they become habit. That I remember….truly remember…..the things of this journey. That God shows me where my next steps are because after this, it’s really not ever over. 

Grateful we made it to #6. Grateful the chemo infusion with 5 nasty drugs is behind me. Grateful for God’s provision of endurance. 

Praying for that now as I have days and weeks ahead of dreadful chemo hell before we can say all of round 6 is done. 

One day closer. 

Uncertain :: 1/22/19 :: Post 497

I’m not sure which end is up. 

I’m not sure what I’m feeling. 

I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is connected to these new meds or if I’m feeling this way because I’m simply just tired of feeling this way. 

I don’t feel well. That much I know. I’m uncomfortable. I’m edgy. I’m achy. I’m low. You know how it feels when your foot falls asleep and is waking up…prickly and painful…that’s my whole body. 

I’m grateful that I can feel joy when my husband laughs, when my girls are being crazy, when I spend time with my parents, when a friend smiles at me… I’m clinging to those things. Cuz everything else feels uncertain. 

Adrenaline :: 1/22/20 :: Post 845

Living changed is hard. Good, but hard.

Consider ‘change.’ The anticipation of it has a variety of emotions. Then the change, whatever it is, occurs and that, too, comes with a variety of emotions. Then there is the season that comes after the change – the newness has worn off, the adrenaline quiets, the emotions settle.

And I’m learning that it is here where the rubber meets the road. Where the emotion-filled-intentions that are felt become the chosen-practiced-habits that are lived. I’m learning that it is easy to notice what needs to change when faced with the need for change but as things settle down, ‘the way it’s always been done’ is easy to fall back on and the necessary change becomes harder to choose.

In other words, it’s ‘easy’ to find the motivation to do something when there is adrenaline and emotion behind it but when that is no longer the catalyst, the only motivator of change that remains to exist is the mere choice to keep it going.

I find this is where I am. I have felt a new clarity and a new direction and a ‘change’ within survivorship…I’ve described it as a free fall that feels exhilarating…and yet these past couple of days, with the newness of the step off the ledge losing its new-ness, I am now left with the all-too-familiar-shapelessness of the space around me, not knowing if I’m making progress, not knowing if I’m getting anywhere…

The only known is the unknown…I figured this out early on after diagnosis and the ‘adrenaline’ of treating cancer made it ‘easy’ to live changed and accept the freedom in the unknown … in survivorship, though, accepting the unknown is far harder to do without the ‘adrenaline’ to help. So, my mantra these past couple of days has been – ‘choose the free-fall even if the adrenaline has worn off; don’t go grabbing for the solid sure-thing of old dysfunction and instead just settle in to the choice of uncertainty. The freedom of the unknown does not rely on the adrenaline of the jump.’