Half Way Done, Yo! (chemo number four)

Today was my fourth chemo infusion and this marks my halfway point assuming I get a clean pet scan after the next four. Today was amazing! I had my aunt, a breast cancer survivor and fellow believer, by my side to join for the fun. As soon as the IV started dripping, we bowed together, held hands and prayed. We prayed for less nausea, for the chemo to attack my cancer and leave my healthy cells alone, for my organs to be protected from these harsh drugs and for us to be shining the Lords light to those sweet souls around us. It really is cool to start chemo in prayer. It just feels right. We had so much fun laughing, hashing out family history, snacking, Facebooking, reading and studying those around me. My nurse was a bit brash and I definetly wouldn't choose her again, but in the end I got my seven drugs and went on my way. I have already been hit with queasiness, so I am giving myself permission to take the most effective pill (my happy pill) and not feel guilty about it. We had a man across from me who needed urgent medical attention with all staff pretty much running to his side and there was a call placed on the "red" phone to possibly transport him to the ER. I politely excused myself with my IV pole to the bathroom- the less of those images I have in my head, the better. Cancer is real tough sometimes and I am praying that doesn't become my story.

It's Colin and my fourteenth anniversary today. If you had a crystal ball on our wedding day and told me that 14 years from that day I would be "celebrating" in a chemo chair, filling my body with poison, I would have been certain I could never do that. We won't get to celebrate our anniversary today because I am wiped out and a bit loopy. We won't celebrate today because I am fighting for my life against these nasty cells. But two or so months from now, I am going to celebrate. Big time. That God got me through cancer mightily and I will live to tell my story. I will celebrate my husband and my bond that has become tighter than ever. I will celebrate every donated bottle of milk, every prayer raised up on my behalf, every encouraging message or card. I will celebrate that I am not cancer- it was just something I was diagnosed with once. Is it premature to make these declarations? Perhaps. But I don't feel like this isthe Lord's time to call me home.