Chemo Round 4. Day 4.

Walking the beach this morning, I found myself thinking about test results I received this week. The numbers, the unknowns, the questions that hover just beneath the surface — they all came with me to Wrightsville Beach. And as I walked, an idea I heard on a podcast earlier this week kept coming to my mind: “Get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Garner a healthy respect for uncertainty.”

There is something strangely freeing about accepting the reality that life is unpredictable and not within my control.  And yet, there is peace. Haiti has been my best teacher of this reality.

People have asked me how I can be at peace with everything happening in my life right now. The answer sounds simple — maybe even cliché — but this is the truest thing I know: My mind is fixed on Him. That doesn’t mean I never wrestle with my thoughts. I do.

But more than 14 years of loving Haiti have taught me many crucial lessons.  And I’ve had over seven years since the initial diagnosis of GCT to practice this discipline, more than nine years since the first symptoms whispered that something was definitely wrong. Years of learning, slowly and imperfectly, how to lift my eyes above the circumstances and fix them on the One who does not change.

Peace didn’t arrive all at once. It was shaped in the crucible — in the waiting rooms, in the hard days of Haiti, through the unanswered questions of life, in the slow unfolding of difficult truths. Over time, I’ve grown in my ability to set my thoughts on things above. It’s a discipline, a daily exercise, a muscle strengthened through repetition.

And today, like every day, I have to ask myself the same questions that helped shape my work in Haiti, as well as my approach to my health care:

Is this a tragedy or an inconvenience?  How much emotional energy am I willing to give to this issue?

These questions don’t minimize the hard things. They simply help me steward my heart. They help me remember that not everything deserves the same weight. They help anchor me to what is eternal rather than being swept away by what is immediate.

Uncertainty will always be part of my story, but so is God’s faithfulness. And His faithfulness is the louder truth.

Chemo Round 4. Day 3.

Nothing exciting to report today. Extreme fatigue is my friend, but I’ll take it over nausea any day. My RBC and hemoglobin are quite low, so the fatigue is to be anticipated.

I am waiting to hear from Dr. Rossi and Dr. Robinson on a few things, and I’ll share that information once I have had those conversations.

“Live your life comfortable with uncertainty.”

— Dr. Ellen Langer

Chemo Round 4. Day 2.

I had no nausea today, and other than needing a 2-hour nap after lunch, my energy level was great, too.

All in all, not a bad day. I was able to go to the beach this morning, and Clara came over to meet Steeve this afternoon.

Thank you to all who have been praying for me.

Round 4. A quick recap in pictures.

I’m tired, and I have so much nausea tonight, so this update will be quick.

We arrived at Zimmer before 7 a.m.

Check in and then off to the port lab to access the port and do labs.

Lab results took longer than expected, and I obsessively checked my watch for updates.

I texted friends as I did laps around the Cancer Center to burn off nervous energy.

Though some lab results like ANC and hemoglobin were low, they were not so low as to delay chemo. So Crystal did my first cap downstairs, and we headed up to the infusion center.

Ethan was working today, and when he got a break, he came over for a quick visit. A highlight today! And… if you were wondering who took all these photos, it was STEEVE! Yes, he’s here!

I had a private room at the center, and I did get rest there, but I was pretty wiped out by the time we got home this afternoon.

Alexandria came over for several hours, and that made the time go so much more quickly and took my mind off the nausea. I am so thankful for her friendship! (I can’t believe how puffy my face is from the steroids.)

Crystal is the best. She capped with me during the last hour, and there’s a story behind that, but that’s more than I want to write because I am ready for bed.

“We set our hope on You
We set our hope on Your love
We set our hope on the One who is the Everlasting God
You are the Everlasting God.”

— William Murphy

Tomorrow, June 8, is Round 4.

To say I'm dreading tomorrow is an understatement. I already feel tired, drained. I know what tomorrow will look like, and I know how I will most likely feel the rest of this week, maybe even into next week. It’s looming.

We got in late last night from attending a wedding in Florida. I did not feel like doing anything this morning. But I got up, put on my shoes, and went for a walk around the neighborhood. There was no way I could possibly run. I don't have the energy. But I can still walk. And I remembered these wise words:

“If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

And that's what I plan to do. Keep moving forward.

MRI, Cold Capping, and Chemo

The results of the MRI of my head yielded normal results. 🙌

My hair, though thinner and wilder, is still holding on. 🙌

I feel much better than I did last week. 🙌

We're on track for Round 4 on June 8. 🙌

Chemo Round 3. Day 5. May 22.

Persistent nausea did not win today.

And… another positive test result.

Chemo Round 3. Day 4.

Today was better overall, and I'm hopeful tomorrow will be even better

Today's low. My hair is shedding heavily.

Today's high? Time with Clara.