While I was tucking in Ike, he noticed the redness of the bottom of my feet. It prompted a very off the cuff kind of question and answer session between us.
Ike: Mommy, why are you still taking Ninja medicine (chemo)?
Me: Because it is working to kill the cancer cells.
Ike: But I thought you got rid of the cancer. It's still there? Why? You lost your hair and everything.
Me: My cancer is a kind of sneaky, tricky kind and it didn't kill all of the bad cells last time.
Ike: So you have it again? (His voice breaking up) Mommy....I thought it was gone.
Me: (I lost it-bawling) I did too honey.
(He crawled up in my lap and buried his head)
After rocking him for a few minutes, I told him this medicine was doing a good job.
Ike: Are you going to die? This time...are you gonna die?
Me: Everyone dies.
Ike: Sometimes babies in Mommy's tummies, old people, like that?
Me: Yes-everyone. I am no different. One day I will too. But I'm going to heaven. I love Jesus. He will be so excited to see me. And you, one day.
Ike: Will you look different?
Me: I will look better. My hair will probably be longer.
There was a long pause. I guess he was processing the information again.
Ike: Will you know me when you get to heaven? Can I find you there?
Folks, this is probably the hardest conversation I have had to have with someone with the exception of telling my middle son when I was re-diagnosed. Seriously, I could barely breathe as we were talking.
Ike ended it with saying, "Mommy I want Jesus to hold you with his whole heart."
Me too.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Joy
For the most part if I wasn't taking chemo you wouldn't know I had cancer. I am very thankful for that. VERY thankful. I have hair, I look normal (still working on the weight I put on with the meds for 2 years), I feel decent and life is moving along. Fast. The kids have really forgotten that I am still in the trenches. That is alright. Let them have a life. I don't want them to worry about me all the time. I wish my husband didn't have to either.
People ask me all the time how I am doing. I am ok. I have lots of things to be thankful for. I make lists mentally or write them down.
One thing that has hit me sideways....is when I hear friends of mine are cured/in remission. (And don't tiptoe around me and not tell me. It is something I have to deal with and get over.) On one hand, I am overjoyed because those words are so hard to get. I know. I rejoice over their news. On the other hand, I try to hold back tears of "Why NOT me, God?" I look at my kids and husband and want so badly to say those words "I am cancer free" and mean it. Why can't they do the victory dance around the kitchen with great news? Is that normal? Shouldn't I just be happy for them and not think about my health?
For less than three months, I got to be treatment free. From March until June 2013. It was a time of growing energy. I actually walked around the block, cleaned my house, weeded flower beds, soaked up sunshine at the baseball fields and felt normal. This doesn't sound glamorous. But it is a beautiful thing when you sleep without help from a pharmacy or when you have enough energy to go up and down the stairs without taking breaks. It is a blessing when you can drink a glass of wine without worrying "How will this effect my chemo meds?".
In the meantime, what helps? My kids and husband's patience helps. My Bible study group helps. Counseling helps. Sunshine helps. Reading the Bible really helps.
Jesus will heal me. I just have to wait. Victory dance is coming.
People ask me all the time how I am doing. I am ok. I have lots of things to be thankful for. I make lists mentally or write them down.
One thing that has hit me sideways....is when I hear friends of mine are cured/in remission. (And don't tiptoe around me and not tell me. It is something I have to deal with and get over.) On one hand, I am overjoyed because those words are so hard to get. I know. I rejoice over their news. On the other hand, I try to hold back tears of "Why NOT me, God?" I look at my kids and husband and want so badly to say those words "I am cancer free" and mean it. Why can't they do the victory dance around the kitchen with great news? Is that normal? Shouldn't I just be happy for them and not think about my health?
For less than three months, I got to be treatment free. From March until June 2013. It was a time of growing energy. I actually walked around the block, cleaned my house, weeded flower beds, soaked up sunshine at the baseball fields and felt normal. This doesn't sound glamorous. But it is a beautiful thing when you sleep without help from a pharmacy or when you have enough energy to go up and down the stairs without taking breaks. It is a blessing when you can drink a glass of wine without worrying "How will this effect my chemo meds?".
In the meantime, what helps? My kids and husband's patience helps. My Bible study group helps. Counseling helps. Sunshine helps. Reading the Bible really helps.
Jesus will heal me. I just have to wait. Victory dance is coming.
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