Time, Please Don't Have Your Way

I stood at the kitchen sink the other day, holding a bowl in my left hand, a sponge in my right. I gripped the bowl in my left hand, my thumb on one side of the lip, my other fingers wrapped around the inside, turning it this way and that as I slathered it in soapy water. I marveled at this tiny, common miracle, and I wondered if I would ever get over the simple ability to hold a bowl with my left hand. Because at one time just a few short months ago I couldn't fathom the idea of ever doing something like that again. It seemed like an impossible goal. 

But there I was. 

Holding a bowl with my left hand. 

I was in awe. 

And then it was quickly followed by the thought, What will the moment look like when I no longer stand in wonder at such things? And I'm not trying to rain on my own parade here. I'm just all too aware of my humanity. I know how quick I am to move on with life. I know how ungrateful I can become, forgetting the struggle and the pain. Just months ago I was wishing this moment would come, when I had the strength to do the most basic of tasks. 

And here is that moment. It has come.

Now I can open a Ziplock baggie.

I can type. 

I can wash a bowl. 

And I've already forgotten how much pain it took to get to those things. I've already forgotten what it cost to be able to wash that bowl.

I pray to God I never go through another two months like the ones I did following the surgery in April. They hold so many painful memories.

But I fear nonetheless that time will have its way with me, dullness will settle in, and I will no longer marvel at the simple act of my left hand holding a slippery bowl. I fear I will take for granted the struggle I went through to do that. I fear the extraordinary will become once again ordinary. 

And maybe that's for the better? I'm not sure. Perhaps God knows we can't endure the intensity of the sun for an extended period of time anymore than we can endure the intensity of the storm for an extended period of time.

I am well aware of the contradiction with which I am praying - in that I both wanted time to have its way, and am now praying it wouldn't. 

I pray I would not grow dull to the pain and the cost of these last seven months.

And I pray I would not take for granted the beauty and wonder it is to have strength to stand at a sink and wash a bowl.

______________________________

Functional updates:

I started the first of 12, 28-day cycles of chemo earlier this month. Turns out it's a helluva a lot of work to stay alive and to stay healthy. 

Symptoms, for the most part, have been mild, nausea more than anything. But I tell you what, "chemo brain" is no joke. If my head weren't attached, I'd have left behind awhile ago. My job is highly detail-oriented, so I've had to do double-time to keep track of everything.

Motivation has been a major struggle these last few days. I've just felt like being a lazy bum and not getting out of bed.

I have my monthly check-up with my neuro-onc next Monday where we'll take stock of everything and assess next steps for the next 28-day cycle.

Prayer requests

• Energy and motivation to get through the day
• Minimal side effects
• Desire to exercise and keep my body moving
• Discipline to spend time reading the Bible

General Update

Note: If you haven't read the update at the bottom of the previous post, I encourage you to do so. It serves as a preface to this post and all other posts going forward.

Ah,  break. I'm sad you are coming to end. You were a much-needed timeout.

Break primarily consisted of working, writing, and itching. I worked, as this is heading into our busiest time of year, and I needed to make sure I was keeping up with everything and getting ahead where I could. The conference I help plan is in November, so between back-to-school and then, the pace just picks up with each passing week.

I wrote a new piece for Gospel-Centered Discipleship, also noted in my previous post. I spent a fair amount of time mentally piecing it together and dwelling on Deuteronomy 8 and Isaiah 43:18-19 before I formally started writing. I personally think it's one of the best pieces I've ever written, costly though it was.

I also spent part of break itching for a couple of weeks, enough so I left a smattering of bruises all over my body. As soon as I started tapering the steroid I was on, this crazy rash started, mainly on my head, face, and neck, then started working its way down my arms and torso. The neuro oncologist had no idea what was happening, so he sent me to a dermatologist (so much for not seeing any medical providers while on break). Thankfully, the dermatologist knew almost immediately what was happening as soon as I described symptoms: morbilliform drug reaction. His leading suspicion is that I had I drug-induced reaction to the antibiotic I was on during radiation. I have never itched so much in my life. I was losing sleep, I was itching so much. He prescribed another drug, a cream, which helped so much. I was almost completely itch-free within a week. Thus, the Great Itch of 2024. Let's hope that doesn't happen again.

But the biggest news of all is I had my first MRI while on break. I then met with the neuro oncologist and the radiation oncologist to review the results. The tumor has shrunk! The radiation oncologist said the results exceeded her expectations. I'm so grateful to God for his faithfulness. 

Up next: I restart chemo this coming Tuesday. I am entering the next phase of treatment, which will look very different from the first. From here, chemo will run on 28-day cycles. Of those 28 days, I will only take chemo on days 1-5. I then take nothing on days 6-28. I repeat this 28-day cycle 12 times. So, theoretically, I'm in treatment until next August, getting MRI scans every 3 months, doing blood work on a regular basis, and seeing my oncologist every month for the next 12 months.

Prayer requests:

• Side effects: Pray for minimal side effects. This round of chemo will start at the double the dose I was on initially, with the goal of getting to triple the dose down the line. We will assess each cycle, and the doctor will adjust the dose either up or down, depending on blood counts and side effects. I also need to be able to get my job done and I don't want side effects interfering with that to the point that I fall behind.

• Processing trauma: I can tell there is a lot of trauma-related memories and issues from the last 7 months that are starting to surface. The doctor cleared me to drive, and I immediately burst into tears at the prospect. It's been 7 months since I've been behind the wheel of a car, and I never had a seizure while driving, but the fear of having another seizure, let alone while driving, profoundly haunts me. While cleared, it may be a while before I voluntarily choose to drive.

• Discipline in physical rehab: I had what I think is my last occupational therapy session this past week. I need to continue to rehab my arm and shoulder, though, and my body overall, so that I can continue to regain strength and coordination on my left side. I think I'm getting to the place where I can start doing some basic workouts like I was used to doing at the gym, but I'm going to have to take things slow and start with bodyweight-only movements for now. I have an old herniated disc flaring up, so I'm trying to focus on keeping that from totally coming off the rails.

• Increased cognition: I can tell a decrease in my memory and recall. I have to be very quick to write things down as far as tasks I need to do, as I can't remember them even 10 seconds later. I mentioned this in one post awhile back - how do I tell the difference between brain cancer and just regular ol' aging? Welcome to brain cancer AND aging! This ought to be barrels of fun.

Thanks to the army of prayer warriors who have consistently gathered around me and interceded for me these last 7 months. I'm still standing because of you standing in the gap for me and because of a faithful, sovereign God. 💗💗💗