New Image/ New Identity

Chemo session #2 was successful and thankfully uneventful.  I  felt much more at ease this round as so many of the unknowns of doing chemotherapy were now know.  I was also feeling stronger about being my own best advocate rather than just accepting and doing everything they were telling me to do. A good example, and one I'm so thankful I followed through on, was their choice of anti-nausea medications. Before the chemotherapy even begis, the technicians infuse my system with anti-nausea medications, Benedryl and Tylenol to lower my body's natural defenses. and responses. Back tracking a bit, during the first cycle of chemo,  I had experienced horrible headaches during therapy, afterward at home and in the weeks following therapy.  It was suggested I just take Tylenol for the headaches as they can be part of the process.  Upon further reading and tracking when I was taking medication at home, I discovered that their "go to" anti nausea medication was the source of my headaches! This is one that 'most people' tolerate well and works for the general public (Zofran) but in reality it was making me feel worse!   So, this round of chemotherapy, I asked that they used something different -- actually I just told them I wasn't going to do Zofran---(which meant new "orders", slight delay in start time, change in IV medication, etc.,) but they gladly complied and agreed it was worth a try.  (I love how supportive they are at the oncology clinic.)  It made all the difference in the world--not one headache yet this round! The entire course was completed in about 7 hours which will more likely be  the "norm" going forward; long chemo days, but  uneventful.

This first week post-chemotherapy session #2  has proven to be similar to the first round; the daily challenge of holding nausea at bay, body aches and pains, fatigue and "chemo brain".  Listed as a real possible side affect in my 'cancer handbook', chemo brain makes focusing on anything a challenge--writing, reading, praying, talking, listening--basically any interaction with people is difficult. I do a lot of sitting and listening to conversations rather than participating.  It is still great to be around people even if  I'm not actively participating, but often the challenge of finding the right word(s) is just too frustrating and fatiguing.  I have appreciated the messages/texts/emails that I've received, and each are an encouragement and so up-lifting. Thank you for the grace you've each extended when you don't receive a response as I just don't have it in me some days.  Please do know that your contact means so much!  Even in posting a new entry today I take as a good sign that I'm improving, but will apologize for lapses in punctuation and correct grammar, and overall editing.  The brain still isn't up to speed....

 My "to-do" list each day is similar and revolves around drinking enough fluids, eating whenever possible, and often whatever I can force myself to eat as I don't have much of an appetite. Needless to say any Weight Watcher eating guidelines have gone out the window as I'm just focusing on getting high quality, high calorie food into my body! And actually, on some days I toss out the "high quality" part of it if the only thing I can stomach is a milk shake, then that's what happenig! (Just keeping it real....)

This week, my "to-do" list set me on a new part of this journey. In my last entry I shared that my hair was beginning to fall out as was anticipated.  Being in the early stages of that process, I needed to work through yet another change and shift in what was happening to my body, this one a more significant outward manifestation.

As I've processed all of this emotionally, I realized one of my biggest hesitations, or areas of resistance has been that I don't want to look like a person with cancer.  I know--what's that all about?  So I have delved deeper, wondering the same.

The first tell tale sign to the world of a person battling cancer may be the loss of hair.  I know when I've passed a woman in the store wearing a brightly colored scarf tied around and covering the majority of her head with no wisps of hair peeking out, I have thought, 'how rough, she probably has cancer or is in treatment', or something similar. I don't think anything negative of cancer patient, it is more a feeling of heaviness...wondering what her prognosis is, how is her family doing, what's her story, and so forth.

The other thing, in my mind, that comes in to play when doing 'cancer patient' profiling, is noticeable weight-loss and a change in the the pallor of the skin. It is a bit unnerving--even fear-inducing (there is that fear of the unknown popping up once again)-- as I see these things happening to me. My once familiar visage reflected in the mirror is now becoming unfamiliar.  (And truthfully I keep thinking how much I look like my mother did when she was battling cancer.)  The "tone" I had worked diligently to achieve in my muscles throughout my body is quickly being lost, the rosy, healthy glow in my cheeks is diminishing, and keeping weight-loss in check is on my radar.  I am watching myself transform into the poster child of the 50-something cancer patient.

I guess I wasn't prepared for what this would do psychologically, spiritually and emotionally to me, or better said, what it would bring to the surface. But, to be fair to myself and others with cancer, how can one be prepared?  It's a little bit like giving birth-- you don't know what that will be like until you do it.  Or you won't know how to be a parent until you are a parent, etc.   You can't "do" cancer and the process until you "do" cancer!  Yet again I am being shown areas of my life I need to release and be freed up from. The choice is clear: do I stay with familiar and "safe" and not deal with the cancer, or do I venture into new territory and all that comes with it, treating the cancer, and in the process, being physically transformed to a new image and identity?

Christ has come that we would be free.  A theme that keeps rising up as I'm listening to worship songs, reading scripture (when I'm able) or someone reads to me, is the reality that Christ came to free us from the chains that bind us--whatever they may be.  His desire for us is that we live a truly free life in Him, rather than be shackled or chained to this life by sin, insecurities, doubts, fear, worries and on and on.  When we are free in Christ and agree that HE is the only source of true freedom (through his sacrifice for us), then we can be set free from all this life "stuff" that keeps us weighted down, "stuck", hopeless, fearful or chained, such as being worried about looking like a cancer patient. ;-)

More and more, I feel like the layers of an onion are being peeled away as I go through this journey of cancer.  It really isn't about the cancer, it is about what God wants to restore, renew,  and rebuild. I haven't plainly stated it before, but want to go on record as saying this cancer isn't from God.  I don't believe God made me have cancer.  Cancer is part of a sinful, decaying, dying world, and is not "good".  I do believe because God's character is loving and good, I have the hope and even the joy in knowing that only God truly can make any 'good' come from this.  He has allowed this in my life and yes,  I am praying for complete healing, but while on this journey, I don't want to miss out on anything that the Lord has for me.  I'm praying He will use this to change me, grow me, transform me so that I look more like him all the time, into his image.


Feeling set free this week, even empowered a bit, I wanted to share these pictures with you of the transforming cancer patient.  Choosing to shave my head rather than continue to shed on everything, the event took on an almost ceremonial feel with my friend Michelle cutting my hair, my sister and husband observing, and my son (who has lost his hair thanks to my father's gene pool) doing some final touches with his own razor.  That age-old question "What would I look like bald" is finally answered!  I have to say it is a bit liberating!