Faithfully Fighting

Yesterday’s chemo was an “interesting” day.  I thought I’d share some of the highlights.  Mom went with me because my dear Pete seems to be suffering from an irritating virus and he, very thoughtfully, decided it was better not to share his germs with a room full of people who may or may not be very susceptible to fighting off whatever he was carrying around.  We got to treatment and had blood drawn, found a reclining chair to call home and waited for the poisons – I mean medicine.  I breezed through the first 5 bags, especially since the first bag was 50ml of Benedryl with some stomach stuff that knocked me out (then came some saline, the Herceptin, more saline).  I finished my bag of nausea medicine with steroid and the saline wash after that.  Then my nurse finally hung the chemo bag.  This was the first time I’d had the Taxol (an unassuming small bag of medicine) and she casually told me that she would be watching me, but if I felt really cold, any pain in my back, or had shortness of breath, etc to call for her at the station right beside me.  That conversation is pretty much standard, but always the one that makes me nervous.  Luckily I was still riding my Benedryl high and excited that this was my last bag of meds and we were, maybe 15-30 minutes away from out of here, so I nodded and smiled, and proceeded to have light conversation with Mom.  My nurse walked by about 5 minutes later and asked how I was doing and I felt fine.

I was just beginning a conversation with the man across from me about radiation therapy (which he had begun that day) when an odd sensation came over me.  I couldn’t exactly focus my right eye.  My cheek, below it, felt kind of stretched out, like I suddenly had a bad sinus infection.  At almost the same time I got a freezing cold sensation growing across my chest and traveling to my left arm.  It was an odd feeling, but I thought at first I was having a panic attack. 

SIDE NOTE:  As some of you know in my 20s and 30s I was very prone to sudden unexplained panic disorder.  I will admit that since all this “breast cancer” stuff has been going on, I have, on occasion, had to deal with a sudden recurrence of the attacks.  Luckily, I guess, they are almost always situational occurrences (during the liver scan, during my first chemo treatment, etc).  Unlike in my youth when they could happen for no reason at any time, now, at least, I have justification for feeling like I can’t catch my breath and that I’m going to die.  I have learned coping skills, over the years, that help me a great deal, including prayer and breathing techniques.

Anyway, I thought about waiting a few minutes and doing some deep breathing to see if the sensations I was feeling would let up.  But the face thing was totally wrong and there was something different about the “cold” sensation.  During a panic attack it always starts in my stomach and spread up to my neck, like rippling waves.  This time it was very local and much colder. It was right by my port site and traveling across my chest, not up.  It was as if someone was poring ice water directly inside me.  So I leaned over to my Mom and calmly asked her to go up to the desk and get Beth (my nurse).  I didn’t want to be loud, incase I was over reacting.

Beth came over and asked me what was happening.  I explained the feelings to her (by this time my face was feeling very strange).  She quickly and calmly reached up to the IV and shut down the Taxol drip.  She asked a few more questions, hung a bag of saline and started that dripping quickly.  After that some kind of choreographed ballet began around me.  Other nurses came over, someone put a oxygen finger thing on me, someone took BP, the nurse practitioner came over, Beth was drawing bubbly liquid directly out of my port and asking me to put my arm over my head (I think she was trying to get a blood draw because they were asking me if I’d had blood taken out of the port earlier).  I was feeling better and better as they worked (usually all this commotion would have been a great reason for panic to ascend, but it didn’t).  The cold feeling was gone, and my face felt better but still a little puffy.  They called for the doctor on call (apparently my doctor wasn’t in the office yesterday – thank goodness because he would have fussed at me).  The doctor came over and was very nice.  He said that he would recommend I not continue on the Taxol, but there were other chemo drugs that they could try.  I would have to discuss it with my doctor and work it out.

At this point, the doctor’s words seemed pretty obvious, but I started discounting the reaction.  Maybe I was just having a different kind of panic attack, maybe I should have waited a little longer before calling the nurse to see if things settled down.  I mean when you are getting all this stuff in you your body does strange things that are “normal”, like when the Benedryl first goes in and I get a heavy head and arm feeling, or when the steroid goes in and I can lightly feel my muscles jump a little.  I am very “body observant”  I notice things happening in my body that are out of the usual, probably too easily.  The nurse jumped in to say I did the right thing.  I was very stable, but things could have gone from not great to really really bad quickly if I had waited.  I had only gotten a very small amount of medicine and gotten instant reaction.

Now I’m not one to argue about not getting a medicine, I hate taking all this stuff, but in this case it is different.  This combination of Taxol and Herceptin is supposed to me my timer giver.  This is the magic combination that has shown in studies to add years to metistatic breast cancer survival.  I want this cocktail. I don’t know if the other chemo drugs the doctor was talking about will be as effective.  I know the Lord is in control of this and He has a plan, but what is with the roller coaster ride.  Is He trying to teach me flexibility, patience, understanding, or just trying to show me that my faith is not strong enough.  Every time I feel like I’m handing things off to Him something happens where I see my faith hasn’t been enough.

Yesterday after all this I fell into a depression.  My really first dark, dark place.  The frustration of failure and not knowing what’s next took me down, finally.  My doctor had asked me 2 weeks ago if I wanted something for depression and I had turned him down flat.  I would lean on the Lord.  Yesterday I would have taken the medicine if I’d had it.  I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I asked Mom and Dad to feed Katie supper and send her home later ( still haven’t gone through her back pack from school), I didn’t pick up my knitting, and I didn’t want to blog anything about the day.  I sat on the couch, achy and nauseous (apparently got enough meds in me to do that), and let myself sink down.  I should have prayed on my knees, but I didn’t.  Katie and I climbed into my bed at 9:00 last night and fell asleep listening to the storms.  At 2:00 a.m. I woke up.  I knew I had to have a conversation.  I started writing yesterday’s day down, but I’ve stopped to talk to the Lord.  We are sitting here together this morning writing.  I told Him I was angry with Him and He has wrapped his arms around me. Isaiah 42:1b-3  “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.  When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.  For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy one of Israel, your Savior; . . .” 

He is My Savior.  I am not my savior, He is.  He knows what’s best for me.  I have to stop assuming that if I think it’s best for me (because of all the information I’m getting) that He will follow along.  My Mom said it on the way home yesterday.  “That must not be the medicine the Lord wants you to have.”  I was thinking the same thing, but can't understand why He doesn't want what the doctor says is best.

I’m much better now.  It’s 3:28 a.m. and I feel stronger than I did at 6:00 last night.  I’m waiting for my face flush today (that’s an after effect of the steroid they give you – kind of looks like a sun burn of the neck and face).  I’ll probably need a nap later, but I’m sure that I was woken for a reason this morning.

Have a truly blessed day!!

Love, Lynn

Just for my commenters information.  There have been some changes to the blog site and when you post a comment there may be some delay in seeing it posted.  The word from Admin is:

We now force all comments to be unmoderated and must be approved by blog
owner. This absolutely stops spam comments from being posted on sites. It is
our goal to keep the entire christianblogsites.com blog community spamfree.

So I will be checking them at least once a day and then approving them for posting.  I'm at work during the day now, so it will probably be in the evenings.  Only submit them once (because they show to me everytime you hit submit) and then check back the next day to make sure they have posted.

 Thanks for your patience and understanding!!

Love, Lynn

I want to talk a little about this past Sunday.  I finally didn’t have a treatment and was able to go to church.  Sometimes you know you are missing something, but you don’t realize how much you are missing it until you go back to it.  That’s how I felt Sunday.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always easy.  I sat in Sunday school, my ladies class, with such joy.  As Gail began the lesson I kind of got a vibe from her (a couple of big sighs, looking at her notes a little too long – she hardly every looks at them).  Then she started teaching a beautiful lesson on Elijah and the Widow at Zarephath (I Kings 17:7-24).  Elijah’s faith in God, didn’t waiver.  God told him what to do and he did it, even if it meant hiding out and eating what ravens brought him to eat.  Then, in faith, he cries out to God to heal the widow’s son.  What kind of faith that took!  He’d never done that before, he was a profit, on the run.  How did he know that God would heal that boy.  He could have just said “It must have been the Lord’s will” or “We don’t really know God’s plan”.  But he cried out to the Lord and the Lord heard Elijah’s cry.  I was humbled by his faith.  

Then I went to church to hear a guest missionary, Michael Graham.  He said he wasn’t preaching the same lesson that he had in the early service.  He read one scripture verse – Psalm 85:6 Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you?   He proceeded to convict hearts about revival, and doing the Lord’s work.  We are missing the blessings, to ourselves and others, by not looking up from our selfish worlds and seeing the Lord’s work that needs to be done.  I cannot do his powerful message justice, but it convicted my heart.  I felt lifted away from my own little concentrated area of “what-ifs” and see that I have some work to do. 

I don’t usually preach on my blog.  I am a story teller, always have been.  So I’m done now.  But it is wonderful when you receive the Lord’s blessing and hold it in your heart. 

I’m back to work, and it is wonderful!!!  I don’t know if I’m contributing, yet, but I feel it is where I should be right now.  I’ve got treatments on Fridays.  Last week I just got Herceptin (to slow down the Her2 positive, cancer growth) and this week I’ll get Taxol (chemo) and Herceptin.  I didn’t have any problems last Friday and expect this one to be just as fine.  This will be my new regiment for at least 12 weeks.  Pete is taking me this week and we plan on hitting Rita’s Italian Ice stand after treatment!!  Maybe we could make it a standard practice! 

Thank you all for blessing me with prayer!  I am praying for you too, everyday!

God Bless,

Lynn

Today was a busy day.  I was scheduled to have surgery to insert a mediport into my chest.  For those of you (that would have included me 6 weeks ago) who don’t know what a mediport is, it is a device inserted under the skin of my chest that allows medical personnel to insert IV treatments, draw blood and, with the model I have received with “power injectable ports”, allow contrast injections for CT scans.  No one will be able to see the port under my skin after it heals, but it will prevent me from having individual sticks every time I need an IV.

It sounded like a great idea when my doctor suggested I get it done a week ago.  I had already endured a week of IV antibiotic treatments in the only arm available (my left) and was facing another week of sticks.  But as the day loomed this morning I deeply dreaded the thought of walking into the hospital for another surgery.  As Pete arrived to take me at 9:45 this morning I was in melt down mode.  One of my devotions this morning was basing the lesson on Philippians 4:6 Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your request me made know to God.  As you can imagine I knew God was talking to me, again.  But I couldn’t seem to pull myself up to his Word.  I called the surgeons office to say I changed my mind.  My surgeon got on the phone and talked until I agreed to show up.  By the time we reached the AM surgery I had calmed down and Pete and I had prayed together. 

I am deeply ashamed of myself now.  As He promised, the Lord walked me through, once again.  I wasn’t really asleep during the surgery, just drugged enough to actually give my doctor a hard time and make the entire room laugh.  I can’t remember what I said (the drugs) or I’d let you in on the joke, but she did threaten “Alright you, that’s enough or I’m going to have them put you to sleep.”  The surgery was swift and before I knew it I was in the recovery area.  That’s where the Lord really touched me, once again.  I had a nurse, Laura.  I am almost certain she was an angel sent from the Lord.  I was feeling very well, but had to wait for a chest X-ray to confirm placement of the device.  Instead of leaving me (which would have been very acceptable) she sat by me and we just talked.  She asked me about myself and I told her my story (briefly).  She was honestly interested and continued to ask more indebth questions.  She talked about my support system and was encouraging about my faithful friends and loved ones and prayer and worship.  She reminded me, with her admiration of my story, how truly blessed I was, every day.  When she brought me back to the outpatient area she thanked me for blessing her and said she would pray for me!  I told her that I was thankful for her time with me and how much it meant to me.

I cannot doubt the Lord’s hand in my life every day.  I am always humbled that He would reach out to me, who am I to deserve that?  I must spend more time striving to do more for Him. 

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