I feel like I should apologize for my silence, but I won’t. I know there are so many, so many, of you out there who follow and who sincerely want to know how “we” are doing. And for that, I am sorry that I haven’t at least given you the update that I am well. I could tell by the reactions when I went to church 2 weeks ago that some of you were just surprised I was dressed. But when things are going well, I feel good, and cancer is not knocking on my bedroom door, I want to just live. I want to carry on in some way that isn’t wrapped around sharing news or thinking of news or finding out news. You can usually take my silence as good news.
I finished my first cycle of Xeloda and had 1 week off. My side effects were hardly noticeable during the 2 weeks, but as the off week approached, my body must have been saturated. My hands and feet began to hurt. Like a sensitive feeling. While I didn’t see any mouth sores, my mouth was sore. Certain foods burned, most food had no taste and I just felt like I was holding my lips funny all week. But today as I start the next cycle, my body is back to normal. Only to repeat the process in 2 weeks I assume. We haven’t had any scans or marker testing yet, but I am anxious for that in the next few weeks.
My breathing is much better. While in the hospital, I was explaining the difficulty to my sister in law, and asked her how many seconds she could inhale. She said she could inhale air into her lungs for about 10 seconds. At the time, mine was only 2 seconds. There was pain and then my lungs just stopped, I couldn’t take in any more air. Try it yourself. I will always have restricted breathing, but today I can get close to 6 seconds. There are still pockets of fluid on the side we did the procedure on, it worked in some ways, but also trapped in fluid. We see fluid on the other lung as well, but it is not causing any problems right now so we will not address it.
I have been active with the kids, doing my daily tasks and trying to enjoy my moments. However, cancer is still present. Reality still meets me daily. Because in the middle of laundry, I am filling out a book about myself to leave to my kids. While I wait in the pickup line, I am signing birthday cards that I want to leave for my girls to open years and years from now. While planning for dinner, I am recording the book of John for them to listen to their mom’s voice and God’s word at the same time. You see, life goes on, for right now it really does. But how far it goes on is never far from my thoughts. What can I do for them or what should I leave for them is always heavy on my heart. The balance of staying full of hope for healing and preparing for the possible is overwhelming.