Christmas day was a cancer-free day. I felt good and was able to revel in the joys of seeing my children open their presents, eat a delicious brunch with dear friends, and rest in the goodness of family time. Praise God. 

My dear aunt arrived on Sunday and will be helping us until January 22nd, which is such a sacrifice of service for us. She's a grandma and a nurse, so she's well-equipped to love us in particularly helpful ways. 

My second infusion was the last day of 2024, and I'm grateful to get it in as we'll be switching insurance plans in 2025. Here's praying there are no hiccups in my treatment plan due to insurance issues. 

Thank you for all your prayers against the despair that seemed impending during my 4 or 5 days of fatigue and malaise. By God's grace I was able to avoid falling into the abyss of depression, and even had courage to face the next infusion. Knowing what to expect has helped a lot, as well as knowing that I will probably feel normal after just a few days of misery.

I'm also grateful for all the palliative care (comfort care, not dying care) offered to chemo patients. This time around I'll be receiving IV fluids to ward off some of the dehydration. Hopefully that will also curb the extreme fatigue.

Side effects so far this time are more cold sensitivity. This means pins and needles sensations in my legs as I walk outside or sit in a cold vehicle, involuntary puckering of my lips in the cold, and inability to drink or eat anything room temperature or colder. I'm also having some tingling in my right fingertips which I believe is a sign of neuropathy. I did wear the ice gloves and boots again this time, but the cold sensitivity set in a little earlier, so it was difficult to keep them on the entire time. 

Ever since my seven years of living in the Arizona desert, January has been a favorite month of mine. It was the coolest month, with leaves changing color and dropping from the few trees we had in the area. I especially loved the lack of demands on my time as the holidays were over and I could quietly look ahead to the coming year.

Reflecting on 2024, it's hard to see the good that happened in the looming giant shadow of a stage 3 cancer diagnosis, surgery, and treatment. But, I'm coming out of 2024 realizing how beloved I am. Beloved by God, beloved by my devoted husband, my family, my friends, community, employer, church, and even strangers. 

I'll leave you with a poem I wrote about January several months ago:

Month of Reflection~by Liz Moody

January is a pause, a breath exhaled, 
A white candle lit on a foggy morning.
A time to look back in reflection and 
A time to look forward in anticipation.
After the buzzing holiday season full of sensory input and
People,
January makes no claim or expectation.
A simple quiet hush falls over the calendar.
Though a new year has begun, it’s grandeur
Begins small
With soft threads just starting to come together
To touch, to weave in and out 
To grow by degrees into a tapestry envisioned.
Time is a construct we created to help us make sense of life.
Its cyclical spiral bringing us, yet again, back to the original position,
Another trip around the sun.
And yet, it holds meaning, if we let it.
What questions whisper in the soft folds of a gentle January?
What arrows show the contours of who you are becoming?
You are free to rest, dear heart.
Lean back into the strong arms of love and hope holding you.
January is a mirror, reflecting your image, showing you your life.
Be kind to your past self. 
Be patient with your present self.
Be gentle towards your future self.
You have inhabited January many times. 
Don’t miss the beauty of it. 
Looking back and looking forward at the same time