The Chemo Room

Mary is a trooper. She doesn’t complain and accepts what is. And what is, for now, is chemotherapy: every Monday for 3 weeks, then a week off, then another round of the same – for 6 months. That’s a lot of chemo and a lot of stress.

First there’s the anxiety leading up to the hours-long ordeal at the hospital. It isn’t that Mary is skitterish about needles. She’s a nurse by training and has never been squeamish. She bears pain well and gave birth to 7 babies without even a whimper. But waiting in the oncology department at a hospital? That’s rough, mostly because there’s SO much waiting.

IMG_6552Waiting to be tested, talked-to, tested again, given results, hooked up to an IV, and waiting through the infusion.  The system is first come, first served, and after each encounter with medical personnel, it’s back to the end of the line to wait again. Emotionally it’s difficult to pass the time in a crowd of very ill, very subdued patients.

Mary has come to terms with her cancer, but when she’s away from the medical world, she can set aside that reality for a while. Focusing on everyday duties common to people without cancer offers a respite from the exhaustion of pondering it all. But sitting in the chemo waiting room? That brings cancer front and center again.

And then there’s the infusion itself. It isn’t easy watching a bagful of poison drip into your system, especially when you’ve always been careful about what goes into your body. A chemo patient wonders: Will I be vomiting tonight? Or will the effects be minimal? Will I be too exhausted to do anything but crawl into bed? And if so, will I be able to sleep? These questions press hard in the chemo room.

IMG_8395Because of all this, daughter Stina put together a beautiful tote bag with comfort-contents, things she thought might help her mom get through 18 chemo treatments: a blanket, reading material, cozy footies, ginger root for nausea, mouthwash, a special water bottle.

Last weekend our ladies group did the same, adding to Mary’s stash: ginger tea, body lotions, sea bands for nausea, a scented candle, snack foods. She may not use everything, but we’re hoping she can feel the love behind it.

IMG_1764(1)When someone has cancer, we’re not always sure what to do or say. Most of us are afraid of being insensitive without meaning to, or even causing offense. But Jesus has the instructive word on this: “Love one another.” We may not always do it perfectly, but because Mary is who she is, she receives what she’s given with joy.

And we hope she feels our love surrounding her…. even in the chemo room.

“Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.” (Romans 12:10)

Praising and Praying with Mary

  1. Continue to pray against nausea.
  2. Pray for more energy to help Stina with wedding plans.
  3. Praise for a quiet day of rest today.

The Great Unknown

Medicine dropperChemo is bearing down on Mary. Tomorrow afternoon she’ll line up with other chemo patients for her first infusion, and she’s nervous. Who wouldn’t be? But chemotherapy can be surprising. Some people are only mildly affected while others are laid low. For Mary, it’s still the great unknown.

Like most of life’s question marks, though, she’ll get the answers shortly. She doesn’t necessarily want to, but she will. So many parts of life follow that pattern: questions without answers, and then like it or not, the answers come.

Take childbirth, for instance. All of us wondered how bad it would be. Was it like Hollywood depicted, with sudden onset and scream-worthy pain? Or was it just hard work we could handle without drama? Eventually most of us found out it’s somewhere between those two extremes.

Another example might be going off to college. We weren’t sure what awaited us, knowing classes would be rigorous but hoping it wouldn’t be all work and no play. For most, it fell somewhere in between.

Mary’s chemo will probably be the same, landing in the middle between extremes. Though she may experience some side effects, she and all of us will pray they won’t be debilitating.

Today while listening to an online church service, I sang along with the congregation, “When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing it will be!” When Mary sings songs like these, I’m sure her perspective now is far different than it was 2 months ago. Starting chemotherapy serves as a reminder she isn’t the same person she was back then, but isn’t that true for all of us? Day to day we’re changing, and as Mary marches into her great unknown, the rest of us are marching, too, reorienting our perspectives as we go, just as she is.

Tonight Mary said, “Tomorrow we go into this new experience hour-by-hour. And if it needs to be minute-by-minute, then we’ll do it like that.” She’s feeling the presence of her co-marchers through their prayers, marveling at the strength they’re giving her. Of course that strength comes not so much from people as from God’s answers to what people are praying.

One thing Mary knows for sure about her great unknown: those answers will continue for as long as she has needs, measured out perfectly day-by-day… hour-by-hour… or, if need be, minute-by-minute.

“My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart.” (Psalm 73:26)

Praising and Praying with Mary9 Petersons

  1. Praise for a very busy week full of blessing from family and friends
  2. Praise for heartfelt Mothers Day notes from all her children
  3. Pray for few side effects, especially no nausea
  4. Pray for the stamina needed to plan a September wedding

So Much Good

Today when I asked Mary for her choice of prayer requests for tonight’s blog, she paused. “You know,” she said, “I can’t think of a single request. Only praises.”

Beach bums.Of course some of her requests from recent days are still relevant, but she had no new ones. “I have so much to be grateful for,” she said. At the time we were sitting on a Michigan beach under blue skies enjoying 85 degrees.

I said, “Maybe you’re all about praises because cancer has rearranged the way you look at things, at everything.”

Mary agreed. “It’s so easy to take life’s good things for granted. Cancer changes that. Nothing can be assumed after that, not even the small things.”

It’s the old conundrum of not appreciating what we have until we’ve lost it. In one sense, Mary’s lost something important: good health. But as we talked, we realized she’s already gained more than she’s lost. After all, the only thing on her mind today was the many ways she felt like praising God.

“Ok,” I said. “Let’s list them.”

She jumped right in. “I praise God for a husband who has insisted I learn to say ‘no’ to people. It has always gone against me to say no, but during this season, especially after I start chemo next week, I know it’s the right thing to do.”

She went on. “I praise the Lord that my adult children and my grandchildren want to be with me, with us. After watching them rally around as they have for the last 2 months, I’ll never again take them or their love for granted.”

She continued. “I praise God for the cards, letters, and gifts that keep coming in! And the best part is that time and time again, exactly the right encouraging word arrives, just when I need it most. It’s God doing that, I’m sure.”

As I scribbled down what she was saying, she kept going. “I’m thankful for my new car and for driving privileges. After totaling my old one in an accident just before my diagnosis, we didn’t shop for another one, since I might not have been well enough to drive it. But here I am, driving again and enjoying it more than ever.”

And there was more. “I praise God for this beautiful summer day and time to sit in a beach chair, right in the middle of the busiest week I’ve had in a long time. Even this day is programmed with wedding planning and errand running, but for the moment, being on this beach is a balm to my soul.

It's all good.“Even the popsicles Stina brought to the beach just now were a wonderful treat. I don’t know what life will be like during 6 months of chemo, but today I want to praise God for these last weeks when I can honestly say I’ve had more good days than bad. I’ve decided,” she said, “that from here on I’m going to work at appreciating what I do have, rather than what I don’t.”

….a good philosophy for us all.

“Every desirable and beneficial gift comes out of heaven.” (James 1:17)

No requests today!