Priorities change

Benadryl is given as part of the chemotherapy mix every Monday. Apparently, it helps to counteract allergic reactions to some of the other drugs in that mix. Well...and I continue to admit that is a deep subject...I am one of those people who falls asleep after a teaspoon of Benadryl...like after I stepped in a bee's nest. I ceased functioning for hours while I slept off the bee stings and Benadryl. Giving me a bag of Benadryl? That knocks me flat every single week. Phew!

Another challenge are the steroids that are included. When they kick in, I suddenly have energy. They enable me to get things done while feeling for a day like Superwoman. Problem is they also keep me awake at night. And when I miss my night's sleep, that's just not a good thing. 

By Wednesday, I crash. Accomplishing anything major is out of the question, unless it is possibly computer work...like writing on the blog, creating patterns for classes, or putting PowerPoints together. That's where I am today, and to boot, my balance is off - although my husband laughs and jokes that I've always been a bit off balance - and I'm just better sitting. 

To add a little spice...I am still nursing a bad tooth. The molar on my bottom right has been festering since I lost a filling in September. When I was battling low white blood cells, the oncologist said I needed to hang on to that tooth as long as possible. This week when I met with him, he said my chemotherapy will be done by March 20th. Yeah! Triple yeah!!!! And  he added, that I need to manage my tooth till the chemo is finished. Just four more weeks. Egads! 

So I'm juggling the drugs and keeping my tooth at bay. It's not always easy and I think the tooth tires me out as much as the Benadryl, but I'm keeping on keeping on. Just four more weeks, and then I can have the tooth pulled. I am thrilled that the chemo will conclude in four weeks. But more than anything, I am looking forward eagerly to having my tooth pulled. Weird how priorities change. LOL

It's about time

Time has been on my mind this week. Big topic, I know, but I have come to realize in real time how fragile it is, or should I say, how treasured it has become. After losing a friend to cancer last weekend, I realize more than ever how fast time goes, and how short our time with each other really is. Having cancer sheds a whole different perspective on what we easily take for granted...like time.

My friend and I...we were both diagnosed in September. We spent hours on the phone texting or talking. I did my best to bolster her as she faced Stage 4 but she accepted her diagnosis and spent her precious time bidding farewell to family and friends.  Doctors gave her two years. Just six months she had. And in what feels like no time, she is gone. Already she is gone. It all happened so fast.

And yet, across those six months, facing my challenge felt long and slow and tiring and I thought time would never pass. I slept away hours. I stared out the front window to watch the weather as it happened. I watched people as they jogged or walked their dogs or shoveled.. I drank gallons of water and travelled back and forth to the bathroom. 

Often I would look at the clock and wonder how much longer till bedtime. Or, how many more days till I could move forward with another infusion. And when I was getting my infusion, all I could do was sleepily stare at the lone digital clock on the wall across the room.  I simply wanted to get on the other side of all this cancer stuff.  Time dragged slower than a tortoise in the sunshine.

This week has been different. I have thought about my lost sewing friend and valued my time as a gift. I have talked more with my sisters, spent more time doing the morning crossword with my honey, called friends and texted friends I haven't heard from in a while. I've connected with my boys and written to a grandson in college. I walked my dog, Claire, on a few warm, spring like days. Evenings we watched the Olympics and talked about selected athletes as if we knew them. You would think they were family!

I taught my classes this week, enjoying every single minute. It is fulfilling to hear the ladies in creative mode, excited about how they are going to use a block or lay out a quilt. Encouraging them to add new skills to their already broad based quilting knowledge completes me. 

Sometimes I feel like a quilter's mom...giving them wings so they can do their own thing and with a solid foundation. There is a time to teach and a time to learn. How nice that our paths are crossing in this time so we may learn from each other and become good friends.

One more time...there's that word again...I write here to get you thinking. Take the time to do all those things you love to do. Laugh a little harder, pray a little longer, and walk a little farther. Look at the sky and the clouds. Dream about the summer. Enjoy the green grass when it peeks out from under the snow. Rock in your rocking chair. Curl up under a quilt and read. Make a cup of hot chocolate and plunk in a gooey marshmallow. Work around your house, listen to music, and hug your family. Tuck your adult children in bed with a late night "I love you" text, and then turn off the lights. Feels like old times.

Time is a gift, my friends. Partner with it. Keep it close to your hearts, and say 'thank you' often. Treasure it as I am. Time is not something you want to waste. It enables us to create our life story and evolve into the best people we can be as we journey the days and weeks ahead. It also means we have each other and, for the time being, that is what makes me smile. Maybe you can identify?

Time now to put my feet up, The quilting cancer girl

Fresh insights

So I passed the blood test for the second week in a row. My treatment was a success, the first of the fifth cycle. I slept most of yesterday afternoon. Today I'm having issue with my balance but the steroids have kicked in. For that reason I was up at 5 a.m. and I've gotten lots done that needed doing. Hallelujah!

When I woke this morning and tried desperately to fall back to sleep...I began thinking how much deeper my faith has become in these six months. All of my years I lived on faith and communicated with God. For some reason, I believed we had a pretty direct line to each other. I had a lot to say and He seemed to listen okay. Whether or not my prayers were answered didn't always matter that much. I just needed his listening ear, and then I would move on. He was always so patient with me.

Never have I done what I call 'God speak' which to me means I do not quote scripture to people. Instead, I live with love in my heart and share that love with those around me. That has always given me a strong inner peace that was quite remarkable and truly treasured.

I ran a children's summer camp for 34 years. We had campers from all cultural and religious backgrounds, so any character or moral development discussions had to be grounded in what I called 'independent living skills'. We taught the kids how to do dishes, make their beds and clean their cabins. They learned to feed and groom horses, clean stalls and work as team with each other within all our camp activities. 

We talked about love and cooperation, initiative and follow through, feelings, trust, and decisions and goals. Together we shared a genuine community spirit, and looking back, I have to say that spirit was God at work. It had to be. Today our camp family is even stronger as those campers and staff become adults and grow their own families, sharing the spirit we loved and making a positive difference in the world around them. You see, He did answer my prayers. I just never realized it.

My faith knows God as Love and the Holy Spirit. What I have spent time examining is how I feel about Jesus, remembering mostly stories about Him from when I was a little girl. He was born. He taught in the temples. He preached. He healed. He died. He was resurrected. I haven't known Jesus very well, not personally anyway.

Then I found another book by cancer survivor Lynn Eib, Peace in the Face of Cancer. She explores cancer and faith in depth. It is eye opening and inspirational. I strongly recommend it.  At the same time, I have discovered The Chosen, a series of marvelous videos that brings Jesus into life and gives my faith a fresh new look. You may love watching those meaningful videos as well.

Lynn Eib cites in her book a calling Mother Teresa heard from Jesus: "Come, be My light." Do with great love for others who are having a hard time. Step outside yourself and touch others with your love. When I explored Lynn's perception of "Come, be My light", I was deeply moved because I have tried to live that way, always. It was as if Lynn understood me, and we have never met.

Lynn puts it this way: "I believe He whispers those same words to all of us today - cancer survivors and caregivers included: Come be My light to someone else feeling the darkness. Come be My light even if you think your light is a small one; it is better than no light at all. Come be My light because when you shine with great love, it is sure to be a blessing."

So here I am sharing scripture, or not, on my blog. It is the simple invitation Jesus would happily extend to all of us: "Come, be My light." With cancer or free of cancer, we have the ability to touch others in our own small way. By genuinely sharing love, those around us hear that someone sincerely cares, and that makes all the difference. As others heal, so do we, and life is good.

With love for you all, The quilting cancer girl

Memory Loss happens

My family has always said, "No news is good news!" When I realized this morning how much time had passed since my last posting, I was flabbergasted.  Truly, this has been a  much improved week so I would agree that no news is good news. With more normal energy, I actually celebrate the sewing room again.

On top of that, I had five classes to prepare for and then teach: two on Thursday, two on Friday and one on Saturday. It was a marathon. Three of the classes required a PowerPoint...which meant Tuesday and Wednesday was balanced between sewing and the computer. 

Time disappears with work on PowerPoints because my brain spins nonstop, trying to calm my chemo fog to create interesting PowerPoints for those who learn from them. Another challenge for my brain is handling what some call 'chemo memory loss'. 

I had not thought about this memory loss issue until a fellow cancer friend mentioned that her brain was dramatically challenged during treatments. Sometimes her family had to pull words from the air for her so she could complete conversations. Well, I have been there too. 

During some of my classes, I have floundered for a word when teaching a concept. My students - and that may have been you - have graciously saved me and then the class continued. I never thought about skipping a beat until I realized my husband was helping me out as well. My mind would suddenly be blank; I was reaching for something that wasn't there. It was like my engine had stalled. I was fearful it would jeopardize my teaching.

I write about this because others who experience chemotherapy may struggle with lost words as well. You are not alone. This apparently happens to more of us than we realize. Hang in there. Some days you will be fine, and then on a day when your body tells you to slow down and rest, you may struggle within your conversations. Feel a hug from me at this point. It gets better. Rest helps. Listen to your body.

Today is the last day of my fourth 21 day cycle. I went to church, and now this afternoon is going to be all about resting. My mind needs that rest after this past busy week. I am actually feeling a pull to my beloved recliner.

My body is telling me: put your feet up and watch the Olympics and the Super Bowl. Both will probably exhaust me. My hubby has asked for homemade soup. So vegetable soup is in the instant pot. Supper is done. Now. I respond to the recliner. Time to rest my soul...and ready for tomorrow morning...the beginning of treatment rotation #5.

Bless you all as you begin your week. I keep you in my prayers, The quilting cancer girl

Success Shared

I did it. I did it! I did it!!!!!! I passed my blood test on the first try today. A spontaneous Eileen-hallelujah dance erupted right in the middle of the clinic. Yup…loud and clear…there was me singing hallelujah in the middle of the clinic! And the nurses smiled and so did my fellow cancer survivors, all very aware it was a major success that my white blood cells were okay. Yeah!!!

Together we did it - you and me. Our prayers were strong, constant and inspirational. From the bottom of my heart, I say thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Would like to share with you what was in my devotions this morning. I was blown away when I read it. Here was the actual wording at the start of my prayer:

            “Come to me for rest…The journey has been too much for you, you are bone-weary. Do not be ashamed of your exhaustion. Instead, see it as an opportunity for Me to take charge of your life.”

I am amazed how often our prayers have been heard. Whether through my devotions or in prayers and sermons at church, there is continuous reassurance from God that we have his support.  He speaks directly to me through you and your messages. He listens to my hours and hours of prayerful conversation. He is giving me the time I need to process the challenges from cancer in my body.

            "...you are on the path of My choosing, so do not give up! Hope in Me, for you will again praise Me for the help of My Presence."

All of us facing cancer know that it is an uphill battle. We cannot see into the future. What lies beyond that blind curve is totally unknown. We are not in control, but we push on, determined to keep on keeping on. We breathe, and draw strength from deep in our soul. We pray. We sleep. We persevere, keeping on....and  on...and on. This is truly an amazing journey.

Moving forward always, The quilting cancer girl

Kudos to the Meal Train

This has been a good week. I have been capitalizing on these good days, sewing my heart out and loving every minute at the machine. Besides, with continuous snow, I enjoyed temporarily living in my sewing room. Have only needed to nap two afternoons. Great weather to be creative!

I think when I sew, you know, about things like projects I am working on, and how my family is doing, and when is the best time to make cuttings from my blooming geraniums. My mind wanders. I do my best to avoid thinking about cancer. Keeps me more in the realm of 'normal' and life feels good.

So yesterday my wandering thoughts took me to the Meal Train. Bless the Meal Train. Since the onset of this cancer journey, I have had phenomenal cheerleaders. Many have blessed me with their prayers and friendship. Thoughtfully, they have added my husband and me to the family they regularly feed; they have delivered evening meals to our door, every Tuesday and Thursday. Yup. It is what you call the Meal Train and it stops at our home twice each week.

We have enjoyed a wide variety of delicacies, all the fixings for Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years, as well as lasagna, salads, homemade soups, chicken and turkey casseroles, beef stew, homemade rolls, and fresh veggies. My husband has been especially fortunate because  - unlike me - he has been able to taste everything. And he was fed, on days when I had absolutely no energy to stand up let alone cook or look at food. 

Having you all along on this cancer journey has been priceless. You have held my hand when I was the most scared. Your hugs have been reassuring. Rides to chemo treatments and doctor appointments have given me an opportunity to talk, and you listened. But these meals and your cheerful attitudes, they have touched my soul with the knowing that I am not alone. God speaks through each of you - I believe that - and you guide me with your caring.

Kudos to Diane Kunert and the ladies in my block of the month club who have brought not only food, but quilting conversations and camaraderie to my sewing room. Heartfelt thanks to the leadership at Aurora Sewing Center - Alyssa McDonnell and Scott Perry - who took time out of their hugely busy schedule to cook for us and deliver meals on two different occasions. And big hugs to long time friends who graced us with their cooking expertise and thoughtfulness. In yet another way, we have been truly blessed. 

Let me add that yesterday we received our supper - in the middle of a snowstorm - from a dedicated stranger who boarded the Meal Train after seeing our name posted at the Aurora Sewing Center. She stayed here for brief conversation before heading back out into the weather, and I do believe I have a new friend. 

A fellow cancer survivor, she is also a quilter paying it forward in thanks for the many who have supported her personal journey. And connecting with her in spirit, I realize that one day I will become part of the Meal Train for another like myself who needs to know that God loves them, and they are not alone. 

Grateful always, The quilting cancer girl