Chemo Round #2
In support of
The Gang Family
View Support Registry
The Gang Family
I won't be posting after every treatment, but I did want to update friends and family who've been asking.
I had to go to Vanderbilt on Monday for some labs and an ultrasound to check on my port, which we’ve named Penelope. ( I've learned that many chemo patients name their ports, and I think it makes it less scary for the kids.)
On Tuesday, I went in for labs, a consult, and then chemo. Afterward, my nurse connected "Penelope" to the portable chemo pump that I carry with me for 46 hours. The pre-fluids and steroids made me feel wired the first night. I felt good the second day, so I walked with Abby and Zip, had school with the kids, cleaned and did laundry.
As the chemo in the pump gets low, so do I. After disconnecting, I am utterly spent in every regard. I mostly slept on Friday. Today is better. I have pins and needles feelings when I touch cold things and some nausea, but I know that, like last time, I’ll gradually improve over the next few days and have some good days before the next round.
I love to write and journal, but I don’t feel like writing much other than prayer journaling. Words are either too elusive or heavy, and I can’t make them work how I want. I also don’t want to spend too much time analyzing these days instead of living them.
I wanted to do something new during treatment, so I decided to try my hand at embroidery. I started getting supplies and learning through tutorials and books. I like it because it gives me something to do and work on while listening to a book or music. When I’m stitching, I don’t feel trapped in metacognition.
This is a “stitch by stitch” season—one foot in front of the other. Our Sabbath School leader, a long-time respected surgeon, recently told me what he tells all his chemo patients before they begin treatment: “Remember, this is a marathon, not a race.”
It’s one step and then the next one. It’s one stitch and then the next. The next stitch doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s small bits of effort along the way. But it’s progress.
And the stitches themselves are important, even if they are small. Maybe on a hard day, the next stitch is resting and drinking water, taking a walk, writing a card, sending a message to an old friend, painting Abby’s nails pink, talking MLB draft picks with Spencer, or just holding hands with my husband.
Watching and waiting are all part of hope. In his explication of Psalm 120, Eugene Peterson reminds us that even when it feels like “the bottom has fallen out of our lives,” there is never despair because “God is at the foundation. God is at the boundaries.”
We can take the next step or make the next stitch because we are secure.
This is a well-known, beloved text from Romans. But I love this version because of the addition at the end:
“Neither life nor death, height nor depth, can separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus; not because we hold Him so firmly, but because He holds us so fast.”
(AA 552)
Thank you so much for your prayers and support.
Sending love to you all. ❤
~Laura
I had to go to Vanderbilt on Monday for some labs and an ultrasound to check on my port, which we’ve named Penelope. ( I've learned that many chemo patients name their ports, and I think it makes it less scary for the kids.)
On Tuesday, I went in for labs, a consult, and then chemo. Afterward, my nurse connected "Penelope" to the portable chemo pump that I carry with me for 46 hours. The pre-fluids and steroids made me feel wired the first night. I felt good the second day, so I walked with Abby and Zip, had school with the kids, cleaned and did laundry.
As the chemo in the pump gets low, so do I. After disconnecting, I am utterly spent in every regard. I mostly slept on Friday. Today is better. I have pins and needles feelings when I touch cold things and some nausea, but I know that, like last time, I’ll gradually improve over the next few days and have some good days before the next round.
I love to write and journal, but I don’t feel like writing much other than prayer journaling. Words are either too elusive or heavy, and I can’t make them work how I want. I also don’t want to spend too much time analyzing these days instead of living them.
I wanted to do something new during treatment, so I decided to try my hand at embroidery. I started getting supplies and learning through tutorials and books. I like it because it gives me something to do and work on while listening to a book or music. When I’m stitching, I don’t feel trapped in metacognition.
This is a “stitch by stitch” season—one foot in front of the other. Our Sabbath School leader, a long-time respected surgeon, recently told me what he tells all his chemo patients before they begin treatment: “Remember, this is a marathon, not a race.”
It’s one step and then the next one. It’s one stitch and then the next. The next stitch doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s small bits of effort along the way. But it’s progress.
And the stitches themselves are important, even if they are small. Maybe on a hard day, the next stitch is resting and drinking water, taking a walk, writing a card, sending a message to an old friend, painting Abby’s nails pink, talking MLB draft picks with Spencer, or just holding hands with my husband.
Watching and waiting are all part of hope. In his explication of Psalm 120, Eugene Peterson reminds us that even when it feels like “the bottom has fallen out of our lives,” there is never despair because “God is at the foundation. God is at the boundaries.”
We can take the next step or make the next stitch because we are secure.
This is a well-known, beloved text from Romans. But I love this version because of the addition at the end:
“Neither life nor death, height nor depth, can separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus; not because we hold Him so firmly, but because He holds us so fast.”
(AA 552)
Thank you so much for your prayers and support.
Sending love to you all. ❤
~Laura
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