A Spring of Joy

Today I should be at work, but I am curled up under blankets next to a roaring fire… splitting headache, achy body, nausea, fatigue. Chemo.

Y’all, I don’t even know how to describe the wretchedness of chemo.

On Monday as I walked into the cancer center with my dad (best chemo buddy ever!), I told him how hard it was to enter those doors. Every time I go in, I know what awaits me when I leave. Days of misery, of curling up, of watching life happen around me, of stressing over things I think need to get done that I cannot do. I read some, write some, watch some tv, and sleep. My children spend time in my room, snuggling, sharing of their days, getting instructions for chores to take care of the home while I’m unable. Some days it’s really hard to see the gifts in this misery.

And then…

The phone rings late, and I see it’s the cancer center and my heart does a flip-flop.

“Angie, it’s Dr. U.” she sounded almost giddy, “Your lab work just crossed my desk and I had to call right away.”

Y’all, my tumor markers have dropped again. In fact, they’ve almost halved again!

I will have more details and answers to lots of questions that I have after I see the doctor again for my next treatment, but in the meantime, we are thankful for this gift for this day.

Chemo continues. It is hard. It is miserable.

Diet and supplements continue. It is hard. But it is wholesome.

And it is working!

Quiet celebration resounds in my heart… there will be time for noisy celebration when I feel better.

Thank y’all for walking this road with us… for encouraging us, for gritting your teeth in the pain with us, for praying for us, for not giving up on us, for weeping when we weep and rejoicing when we rejoice. It takes a village, and you are a wonderful village to “live” with.