“I am telling you this story so that you do not think of any part of your journey as wasted time. So you do not feel a need to rush. To speed ahead to fulfill your calling.”
We were in his office, some days after the end of round three. If I’ve collected oncologists in the last fourteen years, in the last three I seem to have collected pastors.
“He doesn’t need to see you. Just call him in a few days and he can give you the results over the phone.”
You would think by now there would be a way to get the results of bloodwork in the same day, but oftentimes its not. So while we did the actual 2-months-turned-to-3-months-post-chemotherapy bloodwork today, I won’t get any news for a bit.
On The Run
“Exactly how many devotionals do you read each morning,” she asks with a note of caution in her voice.
“Eight,” I tell her. I do not offer up that this number does not include the two scripture reading plans I follow.
When it comes to the legendary stories in my family, along with the one where I bit the doctor who dared try to give me a TB test falls the story of the time I sobbed about having to complete the one mile run in high school.
The State of Affairs v.7.
I spent my morning today down by the river, just like I did one year ago. The Dragon Boat races are back in RVA and one of the organizations I love had boats out on the water. Last year, I rowed hard in three races and loved every second of it.
The State of Affairs v.6.
We will start with the obvious I guess.
Phase one of chemotherapy is done.
I have meant to write, tried to write, so many times in the last week. But I can't for the life of me figure out how to put words to this space.
The State of Affairs v.5.
Well, here we are. Just 5 hours away from the last dose of round five.
Which means that there is just one round of this bad chemotherapy left. And right now, I'm willing to say that calling it "bad chemo" is the greatest understatement I have ever made.
Waiting On Morning
Its been awhile.
If you're in RVA or love someone who is, you probably know the reason already - on day 3 of round 4, just about an hour after I returned home from my infusion, a huge summer storm rocked our little city. My neighborhood bore the brunt of it, and Hope and I were without power from around 8pm on Thursday until around the same time on Monday.
The State of Affairs v.4.
I don't have any memories of being afraid of the dark as a child. That could be because I wasn't, or simply because I have very few childhood memories at all - those years all locked away for a reason yet to be discovered.
One of the things I really wish for these days is access to a journal of my thoughts, and symptoms, and feelings during my last experience with chemo. It would be so interesting to compare this current cancer detour with the last one.