I’m still going, literally and figuratively.
I’m still going to New York City later this month, I’m still going to be married to the love of my life Jamie next month and I’m still going, living on despite prognoses to the contrary.
Not many believed I’d still be going at all.
At my most recent chemotherapy treatment one of the nurses told me that after my previous treatment I seemed so dire that the nurses all gathered together, read my most recent column aloud and prayed together. And they cried. They were that certain that they’d never see me again. Just hearing that made me tear up and it reminded me of not only how far I’ve gone down the cancer path, but how fragile my remaining life is.
Then the very next week – this week – I began feeling worse, with stomach pains and general bad feelings. That’s scary because it’s small pains like that that have led to two extended hospital stays where I’ve not been expected to live.
And my new chemotherapy is the one my doctor warned me will make me susceptible to things just like that.
I’m nervous, but I’m pressing on. What other choice do I have?
The Bible says God didn’t create us with a spirit of fear and I know that he will be with me every step of whatever lies ahead.
Sometime I just have to look for the small victories.
Tonight I attended my soon-to-be-stepson’s cello recital, along with my trusty cup to puke in. I felt the strong need to spit up right between songs where the whole Brownsburg High School Auditorium was fully silent. I whispered to myself, “start playing dang it” and lo and beholdthey did. It was great timing and I could wretch along with the strings all the while going largely unnoticed by those around me.
Of course that was no miracle, but it was nice nonetheless.
This month i’ looking forward to my trip to NYC to stay in the beautiful, modern TWA Hotel, and looking forward to choosing my suit for my wedding. My hair is falling out so I’ll need a suit to distract from that, so maybe some plaid is in order.
By Dave Taylor