Definitely Six More Weeks of Chemo: Cadcyla #4

 Unlike my disdain for Punxutawney Phil and his predictions of six more weeks of winter, I am happy about the news that I will be able to continue taking this new chemo as long as it continues working.  And, it's working like a charm so far, like my favorite treatment yet!

Dr. Cole was running a bit behind today, but came in with good news that my bloodwork is all still looking stable, and there was no shadow stopping us from today's infusion.  The one concern was that my sensitive skin was showing some signs of unhappiness with a reaction, similar to one I had while I was working with Dr. Fleener, back in College Station.  Back then, her reaction to my reaction had been par for the course of my love for her.  "It's not threatening or worrisome enough to stop your chemo."  We pushed ahead then, and thus the cycle continues.  This has happened in Frisco, and it seems to happen, in some form, whenever my body doesn't like something it's been given.  I had concerns that I might be having a reaction to the Covid-19 vaccine, but it seems to be more consistent over time, related to cancer treatments.  Dr. Coolio did try something new this time and prescribed a special steroid cream that is already working wonders!

Examples of Reaction in the Past: 

From Today:

back on right side

back and arm, left side

front and chest

Thankfully, you can see that this reaction seems much less severe.  I have high hopes for the steroid cream.

It was on to the infusion rooms, but there we hit a snag.  A computer went down in the pharmacy.  Even though Dr. C. had just cleared me for the day's treatment, pharmacy MUST quadruple-check everything before even mixing the dose.  That was the one thing standing in the way of a perfect infusion day.  

It did work out, as I was finished just in time for lunch!

Looking on the bright side can be so difficult when difficult days keep descending.  That has been the story our family for so many days that it's hard to keep up with the long lists.  We try to save for the future, and events we could never forecast hit hard. As if cancer is not enough, all those little things that create large piles keep piling up.  

Over and over we seem to need examples of the same lessons:  You are strong, but I am stronger; You can plan and plan and practice and pray, but you cannot predict what the world will bring you; Your faith must not falter, even when the future seems bleak.  The phrase, "It's always something." has long been a ballad to help us bear the unseen burdens that want to beat us down and keep us bound up or looking for blame or losing emotional balance.  Without breaking the downward cycle, we might be tempted to focus only on the bleak.  

Perhaps my ballad needs more focus on the long view of life.  Yes, daily challenges seem to want to block the light of the sun, but I know it is always there.  It is easier said than done to move forward only on blind hope, not focusing on the frustrating 'somethings' that seem to strangle the success and happiness of most days, without feeling the weight of the struggles.  There are storms and sores and scars and grim, dark days that steal smiles.  Minuscule moments try to destroy joy and send us screaming or crying or saying things we wish could could take back and sometimes feeling like there is no way out but out.  However, "It's always something" IS a start to a healing mantra.  

Daily challenges are always chipping away at all my deficiencies, AND grace is constantly patching up that weakness.  If I can overcome the day, my flaws and frailty become a different 'something' of focus.  Life is fragile and sometimes forceful, but also forces me to firm up through faith.  It IS always something, whether that something be good or bad.  The focus on good can lead to a stronger foundation.  I choose to live in the low for as little as possible and give permission to look up and see more and more lessons from the light.

Facing the darknesses of daily life, while keeping the light in mind has been a strong lesson in all these years of my cancer battle.  I would not be here writing this without a steady mindset of seeing the small (and large) miracles and my role in sharing what I have learned, without deciding to endure.  It is difficult, but every step forward builds the strong foundation to hold to when the hard 'somethings' try to force me back. Each time my nurses ask the required questions about feeling depression, hopelessness, or thoughts of suicide, I am reminded of how much the dark times in life can weigh down and destroy.  Life is never hopeless if we hold on to a bit of hope.  By seeing the smallest and most simple good--the blooming of a new flower; the  kindness of a stranger; a good sleep, a good book, a good meal, a good song; forgiveness and learning to forgive; new learning, new growth; new scientific discoveries; new jobs; new dreams. All of these affirmations of daily gratitude can change hearts and minds over time.  

Just like the changing of seasons [even if six more weeks of a certain one seems to cloud out the sun for too long] provides proof that things will change, it's never too late for a change, and there will always be something on the horizon, help from above, and hope that all the 'somethings' are just a part of the big, beautiful picture.