When I was in school, it was very important for me to do well on any test or paper I was assigned. Sometimes, I just didn’t do well enough and I got a “B” on the bottom of the paper. I disappointed with myself and a little annoyed with the teacher. I would scrutinize those red marks and maybe figure out how I was going to do better next time or blame the teacher for whatever reason I could think of. Either way, it was a moment of disappointment.
I felt the same way yesterday when my doctor told me there was some growth in the tumor in my cerebellum. She measured it as 25% growth. Disappointment.
The course of action now is another type of chemo. This stuff is oral and I will take it once every six weeks. I will also continue the IV chemo but I am down to one drug so it won’t take as long to administer. There is also the possibility of radiation. That is still being decided in a kind of price to earnings ratio. We’ll see.
The hard part right now is directing my energy in the right direction. There is a little devil guy on one shoulder saying, “See, the doctor is pulling one drug after another out of her bag of tricks but they are only band-aids. You are throwing water balloons at a house fire. Maybe you’ll find a big enough balloon and maybe you won’t.”
Then there is the sweet angel that says, “This is going to do it. The tumor will stop growing and even start shrinking. If this doesn’t do it, the next drug will.”
But what I want to do is ignore both voices. One pulls me down and the other throws me in the air long enough to enjoy the view but I can’t help looking down, expecting to hit the ground at any moment. As Nana would say, “I’m on the leaning side.”
I want to rest on His unchanging grace, knowing this could go any one of lots of ways. I need to remind myself that, although there is a lot of sinking sand around me, chemo drugs, hair and hearing loss, fatigue, mood swings, bad days, worse days, that is not where I need to stand. I need to stand on the Solid Rock who knew me before even one of my days were lived, who formed me in secret, who has plans that give me a future and a hope, who inscribed my name on the palm of His hands. Some days I am just barely hanging on to the Rock with sweaty fingers. Yesterday was one of those days. He hasn’t let me go, especially when I am just barely hanging on.
Next treatment, two weeks. And then an MRI four weeks later.