Another Round

Today, I am back in the hospital for my fifth round of chemotherapy. This is the next to the last treatment I'll have, and when the doctor confirmed that this morning, I rejoiced. I even did a soft scream, fists in the air, just after he walked out of the door. One has to maintain some level of decorum on the oncology wing of the hospital.

The other good news is that my blood protein marker they are using to track the destruction of the cancer and the effectiveness of the chemotherapy, CA125, is continuing to go down. As I may have mentioned before, it started at just over 400 following my hysterectomy, went down to around 200 three weeks later, then had gone down dramatically with each new round of chemotherapy. The elusive "normal" is less than 20. I hit 19 after two rounds, 10 after three rounds, and just found out that the fourth round of chemo caused it to go down a little more to 7. My oncologist said he's never seen it go below 5, so I'm hoping to break the record with these last two rounds!

Needless to say, I am thankful to the Lord for all of this good news and feel very hopeful and encouraged.

But I also feel wary of myself, so easily tricked into ignoring eternity and focusing on the material world around me -- my physical health, my house, my relationships, my job, my looks, my peace of mind. You know, a normal life. 

Now that things seem to be going so well, it will be a greater challenge to remember that suffering makes me more like Jesus and death is not the worst thing that can happen to me. In fact, Paul says that to die is gain. Oh for that eternal perspective! I need that perspective to help me weather the next storms that come, and they will come, whatever they may be.

So I am praying for the faith, whether I am living or dying, to please Christ, just as Paul says in 2 Corinthians 5:6-9.

"Therefore, being always of good courage, and knowing that while we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord--for we walk by faith, not by sight--we are of good courage, I say, and prefer rather to be absent from the body and to be at home with the Lord. Therefore we also have as our ambition, whether at home or absent, to be pleasing to Him."

Ancestral Visits

Tuesday, I went to bed with a sense of dread in my belly. Literally, I was having abdominal pain, and the thought crossed my mind that there might be a new tumor growing there. I also was experiencing painful sores in my mouth from the chemotherapy, and my energy level had been very low. I admit that death was roaming through my thoughts.

That's why I wasn't surprised when I woke up off and on throughout a restless night of sleep dreaming of my ancestors reaching out with enticing offers. I saw beautiful hills full of fruit trees, and a faceless chorus of my "ancestors" was inviting me to come and pick the fruit. Later, my Grandma Ruth, who died when I was 13, invited me to come with her for a nice bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. In another restless episode, I found myself dreaming of a Kwanzaa/Hanukkah celebration in a submarine with my dad (who is very much alive).

I've hesitated writing about these dreams, which my dad told me were very weird, because they obviously weren't ushering me into the netherworld. And I, of course, don't usually attribute that kind of power to dreams anyway. Not to mention, I was afraid to write about these dreams because I didn't want you to think I am actually going insane over here in Indianapolis.

But perhaps against my better judgment, here I am writing about the ancestors because, for one thing, I actually think the dreams are pretty funny. Imagine my surprise to awake Wednesday morning not only very much alive, but actually feeling a lot better than I had when I went to bed the night before. I wasn't disappointed.

I also realized that perhaps I have been spending a little too much time thinking about my life and my death and not enough time picking fruit, eating grilled cheese sandwiches, and celebrating Kwanzaa (I realize it's a little late for this year). If anything, I think the ancestors from my dreams may have been echoing LL's comment from a couple of days ago that it might be a good idea to muse a while on something OTHER than cancer.

Yesterday, Jesus provided just such an opportunity. After my friend Sarah dropped off some art magazines and a book of essays on rural life, I spent the evening planning my next watercolor project and reading about bundles of twine. I also envisioned the gardens I will plant when Spring rolls around, and even imagined what I would do with a million dollars while I watched "Deal or No Deal." (Does anyone actually understand the point of that show?)

Last night, the ancestors were gone again, apparently having completed their work. And I feel a renewed sense that Jesus isn't ready for my life to be over yet.

Not for now, at least.

Common to Man

This past weekend, my Sunday School class was making a list of God's promises to us. We brought up the indwelling of God's Spirit, our individual gifts given by the Spirit, all things working for good, and many others. How good it felt to remember God's faithfulness to do what he said. The one that stuck out to me, though, was the promise from 1 Corinthians 10:13 -- that our trials and temptations are not unique to us, and that God will never give us more than we can bear. Really.

Of course I was encouraged to hear that even this trial of cancer and chemotherapy is not more than I can bear. Although some days that can be hard to believe. But I was more encouraged to know that I am not the only person to be going through this trial. Many have, do, and will know the difficulty of what I am facing. And that this is true of any trial or temptation I face or that you face. We are all in this together.

Jesus tells us to exchange our burdens for his in Matthew 11, but he also wants us to bear one another's burdens. Paul says in Galatians 6 that in doing so, in helping others through their pain and difficulties, that we are fulfilling the law of Christ. I see this as an important means of grace that Jesus provides so our trials don't overwhelm us. You all have been serving that function for me - keeping this trial in the realm of something I can bear.

I want to do this for you too, to help you stand up under the difficult circumstances you are facing. And I know you are going through rough times just like the rest of us. A few of you have confided these difficulties to me, only to feel guilty, supposing my trial is bigger or more difficult. Not so. I've been through many trials over the years, and each trial I've faced is big in the moment. I may compare my own trials among themselves and find one to be easier than I supposed at the time, in hindsight. But comparing my trials to someone else's never works. They are all trials to be faced, to be born by others, to be relinquished to Jesus so He can give us his own easy burdens.

The past few days have been good and hopeful, both physically and spiritually. I have felt better and have been able to do more activity than I have in months; I have seen God's hand of grace and provision overwhelm my spirit; and I have had good conversations with friends and family that have lifted my soul. My friend Kelly has been praying the prayer of Peter for me, that grace and peace would be mine in the fullest measure (1 Peter 1:2). God is graciously answering that prayer.

Today, I am sitting in a hospital bed waiting for my fourth (of six) chemotherapy treatment. My mom is here with me, my nurse is both fun and competent, I was able to eat lunch. Yesterday, in preparation for being admitted, I discovered my cancer antigen level which is tested with a blood draw went down even further -- it's now a 10, which is in the range the doctor was looking for.

Though tragedy is happening and the world is at war, in my heart there is peace knowing Jesus is walking with me through this time.

Back to Normal

Yesterday, I found out that my white blood count is back to normal -- 4000! It made a dramatic improvement after a week of staying in the house. I left my property once in 8 days, and then only stayed in the car as I went with a couple of friends to get take out. Needless to say, I was getting a little stir crazy. But I'm thankful to have been at home rather than the hospital. Thanks to all of you for praying, calling, sending me emails, and keeping me encouraged during this time.

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Now that I have a normal white blood cell count, it's made me realize how elusive "normal" is. My white blood cell count of 4000 falls within a normal "range," which means I could be a little lower or a lot higher and still be normal. This is true of most medical tests. In other words, there really isn't one normal to shoot for.

If I can remember that this is also true in most of life, I would be a lot more content on a day to day basis. The problem with wishing for normal is that I don't usually think in terms of a range. What I usually mean when I want life to get back to normal is actually that I want Jesus to make my life perfect. I have one idea of what normal is, and when life isn't hitting it, then I am disappointed. Disappointed not just with life, but with Jesus. And this hasn't been a new problem since I was diagnosed with cancer.

This week I am doing my own laundry, cooking my own food, visiting friends, working every day -- what could be more normal than that? Just because I haven't driven a car in two weeks, don't have any hair, and get injected with two days of chemicals every three weeks doesn't mean that my life isn't generally falling within the normal range.

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By the way, I want to say "thank you" to everyone who reads this blog, to those who leave comments, to those who send links to others, to those who read and pray. I don't always have the energy to acknowledge the comments these days, but I appreciate you all. Thanks for sharing in my story.