Bombed Again

Part of my new reality is I have no control. My body has its own mentality and does what it wants whenever it decides to do it...or not. I hate it. I hate that I can't do my hair anymore. I can't depend on whether I am going to have bathroom issues in public. I have no control over fatigue, even after I have slept for twelve hours. My digestion is not the same. My nose bleeds at least twice a day. I get sores on my skin and pimples on my face. My one foot has decided to hurt, and my white blood cells just won't behave themselves.

That's right. They sent me home from my infusion again yesterday. My white blood cells bombed and so I got another shot. Why? Why? I am told it is one of the chemo drugs that kills my white blood cells, that it is a side effect of chemotherapy which not everyone has. Just me, at the moment. Just me. Darn.

I had to call Tom again because he in good faith said I was fine and left me off at the clinic. So I sat by the door of the clinic, watched the ground breaking for a new oncology building, and greeted everyone who entered the existing clinic with, "Good morning. Nice to see you." And, "Have a wonderful holiday!" Interesting reactions from the folks who entered and exited. Some muttered something. Others were talkative and helped my time pass. Then there were those that stormed out the door because I was a bother. No problem. I tried.

Back at home, I knuckled down and finished a t-shirt quilt, then got busy on a few Christmas projects. My company was Christmas movies. They were okay, but my real company was tears. I felt so sad all day yesterday. I was frustrated, angry, and disappointed. I talked with God and asked stupid questions like "Why can't this be easier?"  I shared that I was trying so hard to do everything right by cancer. My patience was being tested, and I just cried.

Tom was the awesome, understanding husband. He knew there was nothing he could do except hug me and hold me. That he did, several times, and I cried more.  Sure. I am still grieving for the healthier me. The little kid in me wants to be like all my family and friends who are 'out there' having fun with Christmas. I also don't want these pauses with my infusions because that means I have to struggle with chemotherapy longer in the spring.

I know I trust my God. I believe he is leading me through this. The path I am following is His and it seems I need more time to get a hold on my journey. This is not easy. And, who knows, maybe it was meant to be that I was to greet all those folks coming in and out of the clinic yesterday. If I made a difference to one newly diagnosed cancer patient, then all my tears were worth it. Lord knows, I would have loved someone to greet me at the start of my long trip down that long hall to the oncology suite. Acknowledgement of our very existence is somehow an affirmation that we are not alone in cancer...and that affirmation is golden.

Off to try for my infusion again today. It's Tuesday and I am signing off...The quilting cancer girl