God has blessed me

Skipped a day of writing because I was so incredibly busy with teaching on Zoom from 10-4:00 p.m., and I am happy to say I actually had enough energy to stay up with the task. Have I said how much I love to teach? Have I shared how wonderful it is to teach an enthusiastic group of sewing ladies, eager to learn everything they can possibly learn about quilting, sewing blocks together, even embroidery?

There is a very magical camaraderie that happens within a quilting group. Initially, we gather together around fabric. We are a bunch that loves to 'pet' fabric, and as we are finding just the right fabrics for our project, we imagine all the ways that fabric can come together - like an amazing puzzle -  entertaining us along the way, and stimulating us to learn.

The friendships we develop are often lifelong or at the least, life changing. I cannot tell you the number of awesome ladies I know - many of them you - who are like a sister to me. When we have encounters at the quilt shop, we pick up our conversation right where we left off the last time, and that's priceless. We talk about our daily challenges in between patterns we are pondering. We celebrate quilting successes and address quilt questions, giggle about side trips to quilt shops, and the new machine we are getting for Christmas, all the while sharing our common ground, no matter what that might be.

Best part of quilting - in addition to fabric and friendships - is that mine is therapeutic. For the time I spend sewing - say three or four hours - I do not think about anything heavy. My cancer is forgotten. The problems of the world do not exist. I am literally on a sewing vacation, albeit in my own sewing studio, and for those hours, my mind is cancer free.

So, when I can teach or visit with my quilting/sewing sisters, God has blessed me. And when we sew together, even on Zoom, I escape from the surreal cancer world into a heavenly zone of fabric and cutting, thread and creativity, and I love every single minute of block construction or free motion quilting or even binding. 

Today I do not teach. Today I prepare for tomorrow's classes, and that just might mean I'll sneak in a lengthy nap, or maybe a few hours of work on one of my Christmas projects. Fact is, quilting is my therapy and it keeps me going. It gives me something to look forward to, reminds me about my creative self and gives me abundant joy. Thanks for being in my world. We do have fun, don't we?

Off to my sewing room...the quilting cancer girl

White Blood Cells Unite

Everything worked out just fine with my infusion yesterday: Tuesday. That miracle shot they gave me created white blood cells that stood up to the pretest. Hallelujah! The deed was done! For the remainder of the day, however, I fussed around with royal diarrhea - not what you want to hear but it was reality - and I was scared to death it would plague me all night.

Before crawling under my covers, I decorated the bedroom carpet with big green garbage bags - my husband just laughs - in case of an explosive emergency. But you know what? I slept the whole night with no catastrophes and woke up this morning feeling like a real human being. I had energy. I wasn't lightheaded. I could think clearly. I had white blood cells!!!!  Just think at how much better we all feel with those little buggers doing what they're supposed to do.

I've been told that one of the chemo drugs I take kills white blood cells. This is something I have to contend with across time. Darn. So I am guessing I will crash this Friday or Saturday as once again the white blood cells are depleted and I have to start over again. Wish I could eat something yummy that would create a unified white blood cell front. That apparently can't happen.

Consequently, I am treasuring this day or two while I am more normal. It's a celebration folks. It means teaching my 10-4:00 class today was like heaven. I didn't feel like I was going to collapse. We visited and I sewed Crazy Christmas trees that looked as wonky as some days I feel. Still today was a gift. And for that I am so very thankful for the people who shared it with me.

Tonight as I crawl into bed, I will be grateful as I always am, for this day, and for each breath I take because breathing is also a gift, every moment of every day...and beyond. I am so blessed for the many miracles that bless me continuously. Thank you, Lord.

Gratefully, the quilting cancer girl

Paused Infusion

So, yesterday was a surprise! Well, not really, in retrospect. I went to my regular Monday appointment for an infusion of chemotherapy, weighed in, and nestled in my regular recliner. I was okay with seeing that my weight was down because sometimes with chemo your weight can increase ten or eleven pounds in a day. That happened to me last week and it was a tad scary. On my scale, I weighed 161 lbs. on Wednesday when normally I am 150 lbs. Then yesterday, I was 149. That's a 'go figure'!

To continue yesterday's story, I have to confess that I about crawled into the oncology suite. To interpret that...I was so terribly weak that I could barely stand. All week I was plagued with that lack of strength, and it was really bad yesterday morning. My husband dropped me off at the Roswell Clinic in Williamsville, went home, and I walked in - leaning against the wall the whole way. I couldn't stand up straight.

Now that hall is LONG. It goes on forever, and when you're feeling like you would rather crawl on your hands and knees, it is doubly L O N G. Well, I checked in and did the weigh in. Then they took my blood, using the mediport, which is a wonderful addition to my body for things like giving blood and accepting chemo.

The blood test bottomed out, which is a kind way of saying that my white blood cell count was a fraction of what it should be. So they told me I had to go home and regroup. Because of the low blood count, I didn't qualify for an infusion. Darn. Darn. Darn. Gladly, they gave me a shot of a miracle drug to make my bone marrow create beautiful white blood cells. I had to go home and let that drug work its miracles.

My husband was of course surprised when I called for a ride right after he had dropped me off but not really, because he knew I had felt weak since the previous Monday. I truly slept most of the week away - when I wasn't teaching - and didn't care much whether I sewed or not. For that reason, he knew something was amiss!

Well, home I went and sleep I did for the entire day. You know that sleeping thing can get embarrassing after a while. I have a tendency to look like 'ma in her cap' who just doesn't have enough energy to muster Christmas this year!

Today is Tuesday and so I return to the clinic for an 11:00 a.m. infusion appointment and hope it will be successful. I don't want to get behind on these infusions or I will miss spring too! Thankfully, I am stronger today. Yeah! I even feel like eating breakfast for a change. 

I write these musings of mine to help everyone grasp the ups and downs of chemo. And if you are going through chemo, these infusion pauses can happen. I guess it's no big deal because the nurses are making sure we are safe. We don't have to be scared when a pause happens. They just do, and the nurses take really good care of us because they WANT us to be able to handle whatever they dish out - which of course is tweaked in a recipe, especially for our individual needs... and that is just amazing.

Please pray for me this morning. I am doing the same. At least one success I anticipate...I will stand up straight and walk down the long hall to the oncology suite today because I feel stronger...thanks to a miracle drug and a wonderful backup support at the Williamsville Roswell Oncology Clinic.

Numb days are the worst

Some days - like last Saturday - things go pretty well. I woke in the morning and actually got a little work done, preparing for my afternoon class and writing thank you notes. When I have an awesome, fairly energetic morning, I am thrilled, thankful, and excited about the day.

What put a bit of a twist in the day was having to get my COVID booster just before noon. It went well. Stung my arm but that wasn't bad. I survived. Taught my table runner class in the afternoon and continued to feel good. So all in all, the day was positive and memorable.

Then I woke up on Sunday morning - yup - at 2:46 a.m. and fought to go to sleep again afterwards. My system decided to have bathroom issues, and then around 6:00 a.m., I felt like staring at the wall. I was numb to about everything. Didn't want to eat. Didn't want to move. Couldn't go to church. Slept then in the recliner till 1:30 p.m. I'm thinking in retrospect that I was dealing with the after affects of the booster shot. Just wanted to sleep. Just let me exist. I could do nothing.

I am proud of myself - that I got not only the booster shot but also the flu shot. Seems I should be pretty protected as long as my immune system cooperates and helps to keep me healthy. Wearing a mask is of course mandatory for those of us with cancer. Feels like we are in a cocoon with a cap on our head and a mask on our face, and yet that is necessary in today's world of fast moving germs.

As a final thought, one of my Massachusetts sons contacted me last night. He was here for a visit on Friday after Thanksgiving. We had a wonderful visit...and yesterday he shared that he has tested positive for COVID. When I told him I was worried because our visit was just a week ago, his answer was, "Don't get sick, mom!" I'm thinking he was being funny. Okay. I'm also praying he didn't have COVID when he was here because that is the absolutely last thing I need in my life right now.

Praying, the quilting cancer girl

Prayerful Questions

Everyday is unpredictable. That is a given, whether cancer exists or not. Life and its lessons are plain and simple...unpredictable. Hey! we never do know what is going to happen between waking and crawling back into bed at night. I know in my best day, I might have everything planned out, feeling carefree and in control of what needs to be done. But it never quite plays out exactly how I thought it would.

When I wake in the morning, I challenge my good Lord with two prayerful questions. (1) Who are we going to make a difference to today? and (2) What surprises will you arrange for me as I trudge through the routines of living? Hopefully, with Your love and guidance, I can handle them. Those questions quite honestly are anchored in my belief that God and I are walking together through the day, ready to tackle any of the obstacles or joys in the day's path. 

Each time I interact through love with someone, who knows? It could be a phone call or a note or a direct conversation. Maybe - just maybe - my positive thoughts are helping the recipient experience my caring about them. It's a mystery to me. I do know that those interactions always give me a hopeful boost that something positive is happening because we connected in a meaningful way. 

Then there is this question #2 about the surprises that God hands me as I go through my routines, no matter whether they have to do with cancer or not. There's the day I was feeling very down and discouraged. I came into the quilt shop after teaching a morning class and there in front of me were three of my block of the month quilting group ready to enfold me in giggles and hugs. I felt so blessed that day, and was immensely thankful that this surprise happened. I do believe God brought us together, knowing full well that I needed cheerful conversation. 

The very same day I received a phone call from another sewing friend that lasted for over an hour. And after that call, I was laughing and joking with my husband in a way I had missed since my diagnosis. Thank you, my friend. 

My sisters connected with me. My boys sent me flowers and then called to chat.  The day was filled with unexpected surprises and when I crawled into our flannel sheets that evening, I was beyond grateful that God had answered my morning prayer questions. Cancer or not, I realized I could find peace and strength and courage and about burst with the love that surrounds me because our lives intertwine - yours and mine - and you make a positive difference to me. 

Affectionately, the quilting cancer girl

My sisters balance me

There is nothing like a sister. I have many, and I applaud them for understanding me better than sometimes I understand myself. That takes clarification, I know, so here is my read on how understanding sisters make this cancer adventure truly doable. 

First, I have an Indianapolis sister and a Chicago sister. They are biological sisters  (we were a gift to our folks every five years between 1945 and 1955) and we three are very connected, with me being the oldest and my Indianapolis sister, the youngest. 

My Chicago sister is excellent at reminding me that what I need are positive thoughts and everything will work out fine. I hang on to her input tightly and use it to boost me when I am trending on a negative path. (That can happen at some point in every day.) She keeps me from having pity parties. Just stay positive...just stay positive. It has become my mantra.

My Indianapolis sister prays with me. When I have Monday chemo sessions, we text. It is as if she is sitting in the chair next to me. We pray that I find the strength, courage and peace for which I am so desperately searching. She grasps that God is in my process and accepts my struggle when I feel like staying positive is too big. 

Fact is, my two sisters sustain me. They keep me balanced and hold me up. They help me be strong. They have faith I can handle this challenge, and I pray that I may do the same for them someday should they find themselves in my shoes. May that never happen.

Here...it is important to write more on this business of sisterhood because I am a quilting gal and I teach quilt classes. Some have two or three students; others have as many as 14-20 class members. At this point in time, my classes are taught across ZOOM (protection for me during this cancer) and they are marvelous boosters for my morale. 

The ladies in these classes take care of me. They are interested. They share their experiences from their own personal cancer journeys. They encourage me, share tips that are extremely helpful, and they listen when I need to talk. Some have initiated a Meal Train (to make sure my husband doesn't starve lol). You should have seen the Thanksgiving dinner we were served, and on a day when I had no energy to do anything, a meal that we enjoyed for more than a week.

My sewing sisters actually extend beyond classes. Some of us have bonded over the past years, sewing together, biking across the summer, even taking road trips to quilt shops far and away. These wonderful ladies remind me to rest, encourage me to eat, laugh with me over silly things like losing my hair, and in the end, are loud and clear that I am not in this alone.

We come to depend on each other. We help each other out with sewing challenges, yes, and we support each other through surgeries, deaths in a family, the loss of our beloved pets, and the pain felt when our children face the life crises we maybe also confronted in our younger years. Everyone needs a listening ear from time to time. It's not just about me.

So, I offer to anyone out there, whether you are walking a cancer path or facing something different, build relationships with your sisters because those relationships will help keep you whole. God works through every single one of those caring people to say, "I love you. You are not alone." And best of all, these gals know that sometimes we don't need to talk...because there are no words. We just need to 'be' together, quietly, holding hands, or hugging each other. 

Signed, the quilting cancer gal

Middle of the Night

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, only to lie in bed and listen to the quiet. There are subtle sounds: my breathing (every breath is a gift from God), Tom's snoring, Claire's adjustments on the bedcovers, the furnace turning on and off, occasionally a loud semi changing gears over on the main highway. I don't feel sad. I don't feel much of anything. I mostly listen and find myself thankful that I am feeling okay at the moment...just awake.

Last night I was awake at 2:30 a.m. Just like that. I was awake. But I felt very peaceful when I realized I was really okay, and prayed a prayer of gratitude for that. Of course, my awake mind wandered. I started thinking (which can be dangerous at 2:30 a.m.) and found myself feeling overwhelmingly grateful for the book by Lynn Eib, When God and Cancer Meet. That book made a HUGE mark on my understanding the interaction of faith with cancer.

As I suggested in a past post, it is a book everyone must read or gift to someone facing a cancer marathon. God speaks in love through Lynn and remarkably she gives peaceful encouragement that we are never alone.

My mind wandered to another book I find helpful: 50 Days of Hope, also by Lynn Eib. She is a colon cancer survivor. I have just finished reading that little book and love it so much that I am starting all over again with another 50 days. (I can't believe I've been on this journey for over 90 days already!)

I recall reading day #49 - entitled Waste Not, Want Not. Lynn's message was reaffirming because she says, "Don't waste your cancer."  She continues by suggesting that we share our cancer journey to encourage others.

Way back in September I chose to be open. It seemed so natural to share, relieving me of the stress of carrying this load alone. I knew I couldn't keep it a secret. If you read my blog, my intent is to be an inspiration, even through the ups and downs of an infusion and life across the week that follows. Sometimes I have to give in and let my body do whatever it needs to do. When I come out the other side of all that, I can function pretty well, and so can you.

In these night thought wanderings of mine, my brain goes everywhere. Sometimes I ponder quilting projects I am working on, and I figure out a sewing challenge. Whimsically, I recall beautiful rainbows in my memories. I pray for people on my prayer list. I send love to my boys. I feel my bald head. I move over and snuggle next to my husband's warm back, thankful that he is my steady partner.

Tonight I start thinking that God gave me a house to live in. My body is my house, and by entrusting that body to me, He gave me the responsibility of keeping it in good repair. 

It's like I have some black mold that needs to be reckoned with that is a nasty tumor. And so I have activated the repairmen to do their job and rid me of that mold. It's going to take a while. I know that. It's tiring. But I am dedicated to keeping my God given house clean and whole and founded on hope. Like the very breath I breathe, it is a gift that I treasure and it is filled with love and love conquers all...right?...and I know God loves me...and I love God back...and before you know it, I have fallen back into restful sleep. Sigh. See you in the morning...