
I WAS DELIGHTED to be able to see three goods friends I'd made who were having chemo at the same time. A dear sweet Christian school teacher Betty battling lymphoma and it was her last day too. Linda, a sweet lady who we met early on and we would always look for each other. Then in came dear Pat, a powerhouse precious Christian lady battling breast cancer as well who always encouraged me that God was going to do it for both of us, to which I would reply, "I know it Pat, I believe it." I exchanged info. with each one and hope to keep in touch with these ladies who have become dear to me. There is a bond you can't explain until you've been there. The same with my nurses, especially Jean, who loved on me like a mother and call me "pretty lady". I won't miss chemo, but I WILL oddly miss going there and seeing all these precious people who were part of my fight. I go back to see the doctor in one month to do blood check and will then start my 5-yr. daily Tamoxifen pill, the next step in my arsenal to keep this nasty breasty cancer from coming back. More of that later.
THIS GOOD NEWS came in the nick of time for me as I said earlier, the last few weeks I hadn't even felt like sitting at the computer to blog, just didn't have the mental or physical energy. I barely made it to church and a few other outings with the help of pain pills. I would joyfully tell those who asked "how many more treatments", "two more weeks", to which they would understandably smile and say "Yah, just two more!". But inside I was dreading every minute, every hour of those two more weeks because the last three or four weeks had drug by and felt like an eternity, so much slower than the first half of my chemo. I know it was because my body and my mind and spirit had reached a low weak point. I'd take long hot baths to relieve the aches. I had been making a hard effort to walk almost every day down my road and back to try to get some exercise. The last week had become very hard as I was feeling myself getting weaker. I would take my time on my walks, cry out toward an open sky to God to let me feel his presence. I would talk to the cows and stop and smell the confederate jasmin on my neighbor's fence. I was bored, lonely, or going a little crazy, one or the other. I'D SHARED WITH KENNY that I had been feeling peod, aggrivated, frustrated, even mad at God I guess or just in general. I tried hard not to let my family see this. Then it came to me, maybe God was hiding himself even, letting me get mad to bring out the grit I was needing to make it through those last weeks. I invisioned myself as Rocky Balboa in those infamous final bloody rounds in the ring. Where his eyes are all swollen, blood dripping from his lips, and his body too weak to continue. His short graspy voiced coach would antagonize him, and even get rough with him and make him get back in that ring. He didn't care if Rocky got mad at him in the process. I guess God's upheld palms are tough enough and loving enough to handle my fist jabs of anger if that's what I need the most.
I'M ALSO NOW CONVINCED that God foreknew where my breaking point would be, and weeks ago he let me get confused with my calendar of how many treatments I had left so that he could give me this refreshing pick-me-up of finding out that I was DONE ALREADY! According to my doctor, I'll feel like crap for about a month while this last chemo works its way out. And I know I have a long way to go yet with two surgeries and gaining back my strength and feeling over time, but its great to know I'm on my way back up and I can do this! Dr. Wright said I would be like Samson - my growing hair would be an outward indication of my returning strength. Grow hair grow!

