28. Not Gonna Lie... Today is Hard.

It's Saturday, nearly one full day after infusion number 6, the last of 6 rounds of chemotherapy. I am exhausted to the point of not being able to stand easily, or walk up the stairs without panting like a dog. The chemo is certainly a part of that, but I'm also on the last full day of a 5 day water-only fast and I simply do not have any energy stores from food. I'm living off my own fat while a very toxic platinum-based drug is circulating round and round through my bloodstream looking for cancer cells to body slam and kill.

Yesterday was a very good day. I had enough energy in the morning to walk three miles - very carefully - with Sophie and Stella, our Golden Retriever and Brett's Golden Retriever respectively. Sophie is seven years old and likes to walk herself, her leash proudly carried in her mouth, walking right next to me without chasing cats. Stella is one year old and quite active to say the least. I had her in a harness and she pulled me pretty hard, giving my right arm a workout. She is learning though and I was proud of her. I thought I might go one or two miles, but after I was a mile in, I didn't feel any worse than when I started, so I went the whole three mile route that Juli and I normally like to walk together.

Sophie on the left, Stella on the right.

I wanted to get the walk done early in the day because my infusion appointment was set for 2:30 at UC Davis in Sacramento. I knew I would be shaky and somewhat dizzy after the infusion and walking anywhere would be out of the question.

Since it was my last round, Juli and I wanted to honor and thank the staff at UCD with a thank you card and two dozen cookies from The Cookie Tree in Yuba City. If you haven't been there, the cookies are incredible! We walked in on time for the appointment, the drive becoming routine and comfortable, and I signed in and got my wrist band.

When we were called back, we were met by Tami Saalsaa, a supervisor on the floor and a good friend for years. We gave her the cookies so they could be placed in the employee spaces and she and Juli enjoyed conversation as I was settled in my recliner for what I hope is the last time in my life. As I sat there and observed the others in the room I didn't feel the anxiety from the last time, eliminating the anti-nausea drugs, because the experience had ended up so positively. I also really enjoyed Juli's company even though I spent most of the time reading a book and Juli did the same. It is just nice to be able to pause and share glances, communicating with our eyes and occasionally with words.

At one point we were both observing a very old woman who shared our space, a recliner next to the window across from us. We had seen her arrive on the lower floor being wheeled in in one of the UCD mobility chairs, a stark and uncomfortable-looking metal framed conveyance. My chemo was underway when she, wearing a protective helmet, was wheeled in by an attendant and physically helped up and over to the recliner. She immediately asked for an emesis bag, exclaiming "I don't think that is big enough to get it all in!" when she saw the bag unfolded and placed on the tray next to her.

Of course, that comment gave Juli and I both the shivers for what we might be forced to witness with our ears if not our eyes. She was given an anti-nausea drug which she later referred to as a miracle, Juli and I convinced it was at least a blessing for us! Our hearts went out to her though. She was very anxious about the time because after enduring chemo, she was scheduled for radiation.

Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on that poor woman...

Later, she complained abut a burning sensation at her infusion site, this indicating that the chemo was not getting into the vein, so they had to remove the tubing and reinsert it in the other arm. She was very concerned about starting over, especially because she was going to be late for her radiation appointment. The nurse assured her that they were in contact with the radiation department and they would wait for her. Next she asked if someone would be able to help her down to the appointment and again was assured that every effort would be made to do that.

At one point, she made eye contact with Juli, and with tears in both their eyes, this suffering elderly lady whimpered, "I just want my life back..."

I am suffering some today, but I am not an old woman in my seventies or eighties, unable to walk, or operate my own wheel chair, so fragile and undergoing chemo and radiation at the same time.

It was so satisfying yesterday to hear the machine start beeping, announcing that the chemo bag was empty and time for a quick flush and disconnection. Juli had tears in her eyes as she stared at me, thanking God that this part of the journey has been completed. She took a picture of the machine with its message, "Infusion Complete." We do not know what the future holds, but we bow our heads in submission to the One who does, the One who loves us every day - sick or well - giving us courage to trust Him.

At this moment I cannot wait for tomorrow morning when I can begin to eat again. I lost a net ten pounds with the last fast, and I should lose about the same with this one. I hope to end up within five or ten pounds of my ideal weight, so I will probably do three-day fasts periodically for the benefits we have been reading about: The rebuilding of my immune system and the destruction of cancer cells as the good cells go into a protection mode while my body looks for "junk food" to eat in the form of cancer cells and dead or damaged cells and of course fat. My belly no longer folds the top of my pants over, something I had never experienced until my unexpected weight gain with the onset of chemo and the other drugs I've been prescribed.

First dive is fast #1, Second dive is the current fast.

But today I am very tired. I will spend it reading and catching up on Formula 1 news as well as enjoying a schedule of prayers for the hours of the day, something Juli and I have been participating in together for awhile now. I'll finish with the "Vespers Prayer" a beautiful prayer composed for the end of the day, the setting of the sun:


"O joyful light of the holy glory of the immortal Father, the heavenly, holy, blessed Jesus Christ. Now that we have reached the setting of the sun and behold the evening light, we sing to God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It is fitting at all times to praise you with cheerful voices, O Son of God, the Giver of life. Behold, the world sings your glory.

O Lord, keep us this evening without sin. Blessed are you, O Lord, God of our fathers, and praised and glorified is your name to the ages. Amen. O Lord, let your mercy be upon us for we have set our hope in you. Blessed are you, O Lord, teach me your commandments. Blessed are you, Master, grant me understanding of your commandments. Blessed are you, Holy One, enlighten me with your commandments. Lord your mercy is forever. Do not despise the works of your hands. To you is due praise, to you is due song, to you is due glory, to the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages."

Yes, we sing to God, for He is worthy to be trusted, all good, all powerful, all loving and kind.