Today I quietly celebrate. This morning I am not scheduled for my weekly infusion at the clinic. What a freeing feeling to know that my Monday is my own! In fact, I will not return for another infusion until April 18th. Yeah!!!! Now that is worthy of an hallelujah!!!!
Throughout this cancer journey, I have heard different ones of you say, "Now that's a reason to celebrate." Interesting. Because I was burdened with cancer fatigue, I did not equal your celebratory vibes until this morning.
There is no need to prep for my infusion. No special treatment for my mediport. No dressing in my infusion friendly clothing. I enjoyed my devotions, expressing gratitude for this freedom on a sunshiny day. I could eat breakfast and do the crossword, listen to the news and chat with my honey. It's the simple things that make me gloriously happy.
Guess I need to take a moment here to explain that with the cessation of chemo drugs, my energy is returning, very slowly - with two hour naps most afternoons - but it is finding its way back and that makes me smile.
I have been sewing non-stop, especially in the morning hours, and that feels so good because my brain is less foggy. I am not constantly re-educating myself about piecing and quarter inch seams. My mind is crawling out of the haze a day at a time. I am not as shaky. Obviously, I'm not all the way there yet, but I am improving, and that feels mighty good.
A shout out here to my Indianapolis sister who every single week was on her phone texting me during my infusion time. She might as well have been sitting in the chair next to me, holding my hand. We chatted about our respective weeks. She listened to me dealing with my side effects. We discussed things we could look forward to, and quilt projects on our sewing tables that occupied our minds with something other than cancer.
I appreciate that this Indianapolis sister - her name is Donna - would dedicate that time to just be there. She patiently accepted my hardships and kept me upbeat. We prayed together and laughed at the fact I was only good - during the infusion - until the Benadryl kicked in and I totally submitted to sleep. Donna would say, "Good night". Then, I was off into a drug induced coma in my clinic recliner until the nurses roused me from my loud snores. It was time to walk a crooked line to the car where my husband awaited, ready to drive the coach home and tuck me into my home recliner for a long afternoon healing nap or escape from reality. Those were often hard days! I celebrate you, Donna.
My infusions will continue, a kind of maintenance infusion, until November, or so I am told. Minus the toxic drugs, these infusions are every three weeks, and consist of two good cancer fighting drugs to make certain the cancer is constantly confronted within my system. I'm thinking of these drugs as little Minions, busy within me, fighting my battles where I cannot.
So I celebrate for a variety of reasons: my reprieve from weekly infusions, my renewing energy, my patient sister, and my sewing room. By the way, it is looking like I may finish a quilt today, which is delightful. The picture above is what I have been working at, off and on, since my diagnosis last fall. Soon it will have a forever home. I will feel supremely joyful, and have yet another reason to celebrate! Hallelujah! I am so blessed.
Signed in 'let's finish this quilt today' mode, The quilting cancer girl
Oh, I am so happy to hear that you had an infusion-free week, Eileen, and the spring sun is rejoining us and celebrating with you too. May your energy return a bit more and more each day as the days grow warmer and brighter. Your quilt is - as always - exquisite, and I could not feel more fortunate to give it a home. You are an artist in many ways. xoxo
ReplyDeleteYou are so kind. Thanks for letting me create for you. Nice to not think about cancer for a while. Quilting gives me that opportunity. Hugs, Eileen
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