Tag: #Chemotherapy

Keep Choosing Her

I woke up this morning to the smell of Mrs. Meyers from cleaning house, and not just the usual dusting and vacuuming. No my darling, I was on my hands and knees scrubbing corners.

Being on my hands and knees reminded me of my drinking days. I was a falling down, blackout drunk.

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I posted this on my Letitgocoach Facebook page, but seeing it again this morning, it spoke to me as a sober woman. Sobriety is a choice, and when you have family history of alcoholism, the odds of drinking increase.

Recently, I offended a friend of mine.

She lost her sobriety after taking care of her Grand-kids for a week. That would be a tempting time to drink, but no, I’m not giving up sobriety. She asked if I’d ever been tempted to drink, and I told her, “You would think so when the doctor told me I had Breast Cancer, but you can’t drink during Chemotherapy.”

She compared having Cancer, to a bad day.

Hey, anyone can stop drinking, but living sober is an act of God. It’s not easy, but by His grace the only choice to continue being a sober woman, is to keep choosing her.

God’s Not Done

I often ponder God’s plan for my life. It would be comforting to know I’m on the right path and if I’m really doing what God wants me to do.

Well, there’s one thing I do know. Either way, He’s going to use it for our good and His glory. What we do is all part of a greater plan.

Recently, I was thinking of my Chemo treatments for Breast Cancer. It was scary enough having Breast Cancer, but Chemo was the worst physical experience I’ve ever been through. Toward the end of my treatment I wasn’t sure I was going to make it, but God pulled me through.

It felt like Chemo was killing me, but God was using Chemo to kill the Cancer, not me.

Looking back I can say, “Breast Cancer was the best thing that ever happened to me.” It brought me heart to heart with the King himself.

I woke up this morning at 5:30 am.

It’s a new day, so God’s not done.

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The Cone Down

A pretty sight for me is this red tea in a pink mug. It’s cold and rainy here in Texas, and I am back at my farmhouse. I learned today that Radiation is going to get better tomorrow.

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Radiation is better than Chemo. Thanks to Chemo, I guage life’s upsets upon it. If something happens that is disturbing, and going to take some walking through, I ask myself, “Is it as bad as Chemo?” Nope. I haven’t found anything as bad as Chemo.

Tomorrow at Radiation, they begin my cone down. I’m excited because the radiation will no longer be pointed at my chest. It is already looking quite lobster like, so no more burn.

For these final few sessions, they pinpoint an area about the size of a quarter, where the lump used to be. This is the left side of my breast, up under the armpit. They will zap me right there in that spot, and after 8 more zappos, it will be over! That is called a cone down.

I have met an amzing group of women at Radiation. It’s worth going just to bond with them each day. They were intrigued to discover I write, and looked up my Blog. Those sweet souls asked if they could refer other patients to it. I am humbled and honored.

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We do life together, and so did the women at Chemo, but I was usually unconscious within minutes at Chemo. Those women took care of me when I couldn’t. They still hold a space in my heart, but Radiation is nothing like Chemo.

You walk in, and you walk out. You drive yourself there and back, and you don’t feel the urge to take a nap as soon as you get home.

Every part of this journey has held me exactly where I needed to be.

I am so grateful to have had this journey, but I’m also excited that it’s almost complete. If you or someone you love is going through Cancer, just know, Chemo is the worst part in my opinion. It does getter better, and so do you.

The Silver Bracelet

My heart is heavy this fall morning in Texas. My best friend in the Chemo room, went to be with the Lord this week. She is healed, happy and whole, but we all miss her smiling face.

When I walked into that room to begin my treatment in April, and God knew I needed a friend. Someone special, that I would connect with immediately. That would be Vicki Davis.

I think I drove her crazy with my positive outlook on life. Nothing she could say would dampen my spirit. She tried to be grumpy with me because she had been down a very long road with this disease. I would smile at her, and just love on her until she smiled in return.

We had an immediate bond, and were good for one another. She showed me what true strength looked like, and I showed her I could love her no matter what. I marveled at everything she, and her body went through, hoping for a cure.

She was growing weary in her fight, and I asked her, “How much can the human body take?” She said, “We will see!”

We were scheduled for Chemo on the same day, Tuesdays, at about the same time. When you are sitting in a Chemo chair, you can either laugh, cry, or sleep. We chose to laugh. Anyone who has heard my laugh knows, it’s loud. Vicki had a laugh that matched. Both of us laughing was quite disruptive.

One time, we sat in a semi private part of the room, away from everybody else. You could look across the room and see everyone lined up sleeping through their treatment. Vicki and I were trying to outdo one another with stories of stupid things we had done in our lives.

We busted out laughing at the same time, and startled the sleeping souls lined up across the way. Like a row of dominoes, they jumped, looked around, relaxed and then smiled. They were relieved it was just us having more fun than we should have been. That was life with Vicki.

My last day of Chemo, as I was getting ready to leave, I felt a tug at my heart. It was time to let go of something very precious to me. I was given a bracelet last Christmas by another lady God placed in my life. Little did that lady know, I would be wearing it during Chemo treatments, a few months later.

My Chemo was coming to an end, but Vicki’s wasn’t quite over yet.

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It was engraved with one of my favorite verses, and encompassed my wrist as a reminder of what I was supposed to be doing. Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.”

It was a challenge for Vicki and me to sit still in those chairs. It was long hours, but being with Vicki made the time fly by. On my last day of Chemo, the nurses saved a chair for me to sit beside her.

I gazed at her resting in her chair, and sat down in mine. There was silence between the two of us, but the love was always there. Her IV bag was almost empty, as the nurse had just hung mine. I got out of my chair, kneeled down beside her, slid the bracelet off my wrist, and onto hers.

Her eyes opened as she smiled at me groggily.

She touched the bracelet, and regretted not having her reading glasses, so she could see it more clearly. I told her what is was, and what it said, and that I wanted her to have it for the remainder of her journey.

That was not even three weeks ago. It was her last Chemo that day too. Thank you God for bringing her home.

Beneath My Wings

Not a peaceful nights sleep lastnight.

Just couldn’t get comfortable, and as the hours ticked by, my appointment was closing in. Got up at 5:00 am, and remembered not to drink coffee.

That was the worst part. Doing without my coffee, but God is so good to me. I drank some water, and was wide awake. My daughter and I got ready, left the house, and arrived at the hospital on time. Everything was seamless and painless. Exactly how God wants it to be.

God’s word tell us, what we sow, we will reap. There is a season of sowing and a season of harvest. Lastnight, my phone was blowing up with beautiful souls, encouraging me.

eagleI might have been tired this morning, but I was filled with peace. I knew so many people were holding me up in prayer, and I could feel it. The procedure of the port placement for Chemo, was nothing at all. They wheeled me into the operating room, told me I would feel some stinging in my IV, and that’s the last thing I recall. I woke up in my hospital room.

The nurse came in to check on me, and I was ready to go. Like nothing had ever happened.

It was perfect. It was God answering your prayers. Thank you.

So, even though you come to my page for encouragement…every view fills my heart. YOU are the wind beneath my wings.