Going, Going, Gone

It’s been awhile since I’ve written last. While my mind has been wandering and piecing together what to say, my body has been too worn out to do much of anything, let alone type. I have successfully made it through two treatments of the “Red Devil”. This has been no easy task.  If I am being honest, it has been quite difficult, to say the least. I would say the hardest part has been the fatigue. I find myself up for just a few hours at a time and on the really bad days, I am lucky if I am up and out of my bed for more than 10 minutes. Along with the fatigue, I have been suffering with light nausea and body aches. Most of these side effects last only 3-5 days, but the fatigue lingers on and is only getting worse. I find myself feeling halfway normal by the second Friday and then I am off again to get hit with another dose of Chemo. 

We made a paper chain many weeks back counting down how many “medicine” days I have left. We call them medicine days for the boys, in hopes to explain chemo in a way they can understand. This past week, Arland took off a link of the chain and said, “Two more medicine days, a surgery, and mommy’s back to normal.” This broke me. I hope that it is that simple, that easy, that matter of fact. Because the truth is, this is getting long, it’s getting hard, it’s getting to be too much. And all though I am tiny, I don’t feel quite so mighty these days. I feel weak and worn out. I find myself wanting the days to speed up so I can be finished. Then I can find a bit of me again and get back to, as Arland says, normal.

Besides these side effects the one I have been anxiously waiting for happened. I lost my hair. It’s gone. Hardest thing I have done yet. We sat down with the boys before I shaved it and explained what was going to happen. I showed them pictures of other mommys that have lost their hair and I reassured them it would come back. I did everything I could to ease them from the fear of an unfamiliar mommy. Turns out there is no way to prepare them. Mommy looks different.  

The night we shaved it was beyond hard. I had lifted up my hair and noticed a huge bald spot and I knew it was time. Joe was so good with me, reassuring me that I was still beautiful as he shaved bit by bit off my little round head. Arland wanted to watch. He watched for a while and then was on to the next thing. I was glad he left; I had a breakdown and wasn’t able to be strong for him at that point. Our family never thought we would be here. There is no way to ever prepare for what I had to see as I looked in the mirror for the first time. Just like that it was gone and for the first time throughout this journey, people now know I am sick.

It’s hard for me to find that marigold this week. Within the walls of our home we are suffering from cancer, and within the walls of the world, we are all suffering with this quarantine. Life has been a challenge the past few months. Not only for our little family of 5, but for everyone. So, how is one to find the positive in that? God has graced me with a positive insight on life, so even at my darkest moments, I can see a marigold struggling, but peeking it’s way out of the snow. When this all started I was fearful I would miss out on my boys and their daily lives. Turns out I get bonus time with them. We are together now through the hard times, but it doesn’t matter because we have nowhere else to go, no one else to see, just to be together. That is beautiful and a gift I never thought I would get this year. That is my Marigold.