“Today is the day!” is what the nurse said when we arrived at the clinic this morning.  I responded with a bit of a song, sort of under my breath “today is the day that the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it.”  “yup!” she said, “you’re all in now.  no turning back!”

Good words for me to hear.  Considering I woke up at 4:00 am and thought about whether or not this transplant was a good idea.  I wondered if maybe we should postpone….maybe this is a bad idea….maybe Bob isn’t ready for this…maybe I’m not ready for this….how can we back out of this….

I seriously laid in bed and thought, “does my throat hurt?”  “what if we fix that turkey for dinner and it makes Bob sick and he dies from food poisoning?”  “has Bob shown any flu-like symptoms?  the flu could kill him right now”  “I think I may be coming down with something, I can’t be his care-taker 24/7 if I’m sick”  “I think we should just talk to them and tell them we want to wait a bit….”

Then I prayed, “God is this wisdom?  or fear?”  (Okay, I did say it was 4:00 am and I wasn’t fully awake….Reading it back to myself I’m convinced it was fear).  I sat up in bed, turned on the light and started to pray.  The bible says “God did not give me a spirit of fear!”  I will not be afraid.

I didn’t ask for this fight.  I didn’t ask to climb back into this ring.  But I can tell you for darn sure I’m not laying down to this.  I will not bow to fear.  I need to recognize it quicker -not entertain it in my thoughts, and tell it to GO!   I didn’t ask to fight, BUT I know how to.  The WORD is my sword and I will continue to use it.

Clinically speaking —

Today we sit in a small room at the clinic.  one bed, one recliner, a chair and a stool.  The room has a window, which is nice.   The nurse drew blood, talked to us to explain potential side effects of the drugs she was infusing.  Then told us that we’d be here every day for the next month having blood drawn and then receiving whatever was needed to support Bob through the recovery of the damage that the drug she was administering was going to do.  Bob ate a popsicle while the drug infused (to decrease the circulation of the chemo to his mouth cells, because one of the side effects = mouth sores).  The chemo infused pretty quickly, the liter of fluid is just about finished.  We’re going to go eat lunch on our way home.

So far, so good.

My dad is funny.  Sometimes I don’t think he intends to be funny, but he is.  At least to his 6 kids and multiple grandkids.  He’s a yeller…so growing up in a house with 3 bedrooms and 1 bathroom and 6 kids, we all got pretty accustomed to his yelling.  Almost to the point that it doesn’t even register that he’s yelling anymore.

So yesterday afternoon when he called me screaming and yelling into the phone about mom’s blood counts….I didn’t react to the yelling, I tried to hear him out before explaining her counts to him.

He yelled, “I don’t think those doctors know what they’re even doing!  They called today to tell us she had NO BLASTS in the blood that they drew Monday!!  I don’t understand!  When they drew blood Monday they said there were blast cells, I saw it on the paper.  Now they call to say no blasts?!  I’m ready to call them and tell them we’re changing doctors…they don’t know what they’re doing??!!  How does this make any sense??”

I waited for him to finish then asked, “So you’re mad because a test showed NO BLASTS?  Dad – that’s good news.”

“You’re not listening to me!!!!!!”  yelling escalated at this point, “what I’m telling you is that these people don’t know what they’re doing!  They keep changing results….it was the same blood they drew Monday that they said had blasts….now another lab says no blasts….how the…”  exasperated, he stopped yelling and then just continued in a calm voice (this is when I realized how scared he is).  “I guess I just don’t understand this.  I just never will.”

ugh.   I should listen to dad.  Not just to his yelling, but to what he’s SAYING.  Sort of like me listening to God.  Not that God ever yells, quite the opposite.  He’s a whisperer.  But I think maybe sometimes it’s just as hard to HEAR what my dad is saying through the yelling as it is to HEAR what God is saying through that still, calm whisper.

God please be with my dad.  Give him peace.  Give him strength.  He’s reading your words EVERY day…let them sink deep, deep, deep into him.

So my homework from church was to recite “Holy Spirit help me to recognize and understand what you’re saying, follow your directions and strengthen my faith and trust in God.”  Then to listen and write what I heard.

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to hear complaining, and to hear bad news, and to hear negativity?  But to hear God….to hear good news….I have to REALLY listen.  I have to be reading my Bible every day.  So I’m reading every day, I’m listening to God through His Word.  I’m trying to hear HIM….and not cancer.

Yesterday:  ‘God shoulders our burdens’  I have to remember to LET HIM      Today: JC says  ‘All authority has been given to me on heaven and on earth’  WOW.  All authority.   So I’m praying to the one who has ALL authority.  He rules.

Updates:  Mom has started new chemo.  28 day cycle.  A shot every day for 7 days in a row, then off for 21 days.  Then starts again.  After 2 cycles the doctor wants another bone marrow biopsy to see if this chemo is working.  He said, “If this one doesn’t work we have some new drugs that have come out…and some experimental drugs that have shown some promise….” Mom responded, “No, this one will work.  This is it.”  From her lips to God’s ears!  Hey Jesus, you know that authority thing you’ve got going on?  Well how about some authority over this situation.  Take authority over cancer and tell it to GO!  Please Lord, deliver her from this.  She has such strong faith and is so positive…and yet is so sick of the fight.

Sick of of puking.  Sick of feeling the effects of this new chemo that hurts, and bruises her, and makes her sick to her stomach and a bit flushed….and blah blah blah.  We trust you God.  We really do.  We’re just wondering when this will end.  We’re weak, but I know You are strong.   I hate seeing my mom like this.

Bob:  today we go to get his PICC line placed.  (an IV line that will stay in for the duration of the treatment)  He starts chemo tomorrow.  We had our ‘sign consents for treatment’ visit on Tuesday.  That’s always a fun one.  By law they have to tell us everything that ‘could’ happen, and all of the ‘potential’ side effects, and that this is ‘not guaranteed’ to kill the cancer….blah blah blah.  One thing that was interesting; the doctor said, “Bob as I was walking to the clinic this afternoon I was thinking about you.  I said ‘Lord I hope this works'”.  To which I responded, “amen!”.  If that was Dr. M’s prayer I wanted to second it.  Lord I hope this works.  Ya…because remember last time?   They told us he failed transplant.  So my question has sort of been…ummmm then why do it again??  BUT I don’t want to get into that now.  this post is already too long, and that’s too confusing to ME still…and hard to write about yet….

I will keep praying.  I will keep reading my bible.  I will keep listening for God to speak.  I will keep believing that we can have what it says we can have, and that we can be what it says we can be.  Because it says we can have LIFE and be HEALED.

Today the word was Peace. Peace that passes understanding, peace out, peace be with you, praying for peace….heard it all day. Then tonight I picked up a book that Mary bought me and first chapter is about peace. Okay God, I get it–peace.
Mom started new chemo yesterday-yuck. She’s having a pretty bad reaction at the injection site, red and swollen. And she’s also puking. Yuck. Peace…….
Bob and I went to see BMT doc today to sign all consent forms. I hate that we have to listen to then tell us all the things that “could” go wrong. Peace…….
Aimie took Blake to see ENT doc and they want to schedule tonsilectomy soon. Peace……..
This peace will have to be peace that passes understanding.

Church was awesome yesterday.  I don’t even mind the homework that was assigned.  Told mom about it too.

Listen to God.  He speaks.  Write down every day for a week what He’s saying to me.

yesterday – I’m bigger than this.  (thanks God)

today – Who’s report are you going to believe?  The doctor’s or mine?  (I believe you God)

Mom said that she was just telling Mike, “The bible says not to worry about tomorrow…it has enough worries of its own, we’ll deal with today.”  Then she said she opened her daily devotional book — said the same thing.  God sometimes repeats himself.  Good thing.

 

When Bob was first diagnosed with cancer, we went to the Mayo Clinic to get the definitive diagnoses and discuss treatment options.  When we returned from Mayo and were waiting on insurance to approve the transplant here in Denver, we had about a month (so we thought) to wait.  Bob was trying so hard to do something to keep his mind off of the impending transplant, that he decided that he was going to remodel our basement during that month.  In my opinion — it was a horrible decision.  He had the crazy idea that he would just ‘fix it up really quickly’ before the transplant.  I, to this day, do not know what made him decide to take on such a project.  And I, to this day, cannot go into that basement without horrible memories.

So 3 days ago, when I had a house full of family and Bob’s pool playing buddies (trying to get his last bit of visiting in before transplant this time)…and I walked into the basement and stepped onto soaking wet carpet, all of those horrible memories came FLOODING (pun intended) back.

Bob reacted very well.  So did his pool-playing buddies.  They sucked up all the dirty water they could with the wet-dry vac and continued their pool game.  I asked Bob, “What are we going to do?!”  He responded, pool stick in hand, “I’m playing pool, call a plumber.”   Plumber came, snaked drain…all good on that front.

Aimie came over Saturday and shampooed the carpet for us.  Sunday I shampooed again (still wet and stinky).  Finally Sunday evening Bob went downstairs with a utility knife and tore the carpet up, pulled out the wet pad, threw it away.  All good on that front now too.

In the middle of it all, I thought, “Not again!  Not again!  Not again!  We will not be remodeling / re-carpeting this basement a week before tranplant again!!”  No we won’t.  I’m closing the door to the basement.  I’m closing the door to fear.  I’m closing the door to the past.  It won’t be the same as last time.  It won’t.

 

ok….mom’s bone marrow biopsy results are back.  the doctor’s office called to tell her that the marrow still shows blast cells.  so we’re going to see him monday to discuss a new type of chemo.

i don’t know details, i don’t know percentages of blast cells, i don’t know much more than this:

the doctor thinks it’s time to try a different chemo because the one we’re using isn’t doing a good job.

AND I KNOW this:

GOD SAYS WE CAN BELIEVE FOR HEALING.  GOD SAYS WE CAN WALK BY FAITH AND NOT BY SIGHT.  GOD SAYS TO HOPE FOR A FUTURE.  GOD SAYS HE HEALS ALL DISEASES.  GOD SAYS RUN TO HIM.  GOD SAYS HE LOVES US.  GOD SAYS IF WE LOVE HIM HE WILL RESCUE US.  GOD SAYS IF WE CALL ON HIM HE WILL ANSWER US, HE WILL BE WITH US, HE WILL DELIVER US AND SATISFY US WITH LONG LIFE.

i know God is true.

It dawned on me as I was feeling sorry for myself — everyone has a story.  Everyone has a struggle.  Everyone has something that they are dealing with.  Why should I feel sorry for myself?  What sort of example am I setting?  Do I trust God?  yes.  Do I KNOW that God is good?  yes.  Do I think that complaining or trying to validate my feelings is helpful?  no.

So as I listen to other people’s story…as I see what other people are going through….as I watch how others react to their junk…I look back at myself.  I don’t want to complain.  I don’t want to be the person with the biggest problems, or the most stress, or the hardest life to deal with; because I have a big God.  And what’s the point of trusting God, following God, loving God….if I don’t let him be the author of my story.  He’s good.  He’s loving.  He’s watching out for me.  He’s strong enough for me to lean on.  He wants me to trust Him, and to walk with Him every day.  So I’ll try to be the one with the story that points to Him.

Connor stayed with us last night.  When he stays he sleeps in our bed.  Bob, Connor and I all start out together in our bed; Bob usually winds up moving to another bedroom somewhere around the 3^rd kick in the ribs.

This morning Connor repeated a habit that he’s grown accustomed to – about 4:00 am he rolls over and stretches and says in the sweetest voice, “Gram?  Can we cuddle up?”

“Sure we can buddy, come on over” and he tucks that little body into mine.  Back first, he cuddles into me.  I wrap my arms around him and hold him while we fall back asleep.  LOVE    LOVE    LOVE

This morning about 5:30 I tried to roll over away from him to get out of bed, “heee…ey!”  He whines and turns one syllable into two.  “That’s my back you’re pushing on!”

Hmmmm.  Where did that sweet little “can we cuddle up?”– voice go so quickly?

As I laid there and waited for him to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep I thought about God.  Does He love it when I want to ‘cuddle up’ to Him?  Then get discouraged when I quickly change and whine to him, “Hey!  Why are you pushing me?”

God I love you.  And I want to stay close to you.  I don’t want to push you away.  I need to feel you close to me.  I’m sorry for whining.  I’m not promising I can stop.  Please know that I will always want you close, even when I whine.  Don’t leave us God.

Maybe I’m over-reacting here (evidently that’s a sign of STRESS) but where are all of those missing socks?  seriously.

I’m an adult.  I do my own laundry.  (okay once in a while Bob does the laundry) But  I don’t think Bob is stashing my missing socks anywhere. My dirty clothes hamper is empty.  My washer and dryer are empty.  Where are those missing socks?

This is one of the small, insignificant things that gets under my skin and really bothers me.  I mean, come on!  Where are they?

Aimie and Katie must have the same problem.  Because I see them wearing miss-matched socks ALL THE TIME.  It mustn’t bother them.  They’ve adapted.  Connor and Blake even wear miss-matched socks.  They even prefer to wear one Batman and one Spiderman sock.

I must adapt too.  There are things I’ll never understand, and will never be able to fix….so I must let it go.  If you see me with miss-matched socks on – know that I’m adapting.  I may not like it…but I think it’s a step in the right direction.  Stress relief = wearing miss-matched socks.