Chemo: Cycle 1, Day 2

The day was planned so nicely - shot at 11:30, nice lunch somewhere and then return to Mother's apartment to finish the Christmas decorating.  Well!  Come 10:45 Mother gets a "where are you" call from the Imaging Center. Turns out she had a 10:30 mammogram appointment and nobody told us!   Of course, it all got sorted out so Mother could have shot first and mammogram second. I suspect lunch at a restaurant is out of the question.

Mother's feeling a bit weak today. Her breathing is a little more labored today. It's hard to know if the fluid over her lung is building up again or if the side effects of chemo are kicking in.  My guess is probably both.

Lord Jesus, you give us ears to hear and hearts to love, we pray for discernment to give her the proper care and loving words. Amen.

Chemotherapy Cycle 1, Day 1

I see information sheets about the Wednesday Afternoon Chemotherapy Orientation sessions.  An opportunity to learn how chemotherapy works, what to expect and tips about surviving this ordeal  It's Monday and Mother began her chemo today.  Too late for being prepared, but not too late to learn.  I think I will go.

We entered the clinic this morning as two innocents, clueless about the specifics and feeling confidently informed about the generalities.  Oh, dear me.  There's more to this than we had imagined.  There's medicine to prepare you for the medicine to sustain you through the chemicals that kill the cells and disturb your body systems.  One at a time.  The first given in incremental doses to prevent the nausea and measure your tolerance.  The next, then the next and after that more and more.  Seven hours of one medication or chemical after another. Seven hours of sitting in a "one size fits all" recliner, dozing, sitting, snacking, but too anxious to read or focus on any one thing for longer than 10 minutes.

Ten recliners in one room and one special purple "lab" chair.  Gradually, the recliners fill and and empty as people come in for their prescribed dosage.  Some stay for a few hours, others for a shorter time.  The purple chair is reserved for the privileged few who come in for a shot.  In the chair for 10 or 15 minutes and then out they go.  Some chat.  Most don't.  Calm energy, weariness, fear, anxiety, determination, hopefulness are written on the faces and whispered in the undertones of the few conversations.  This is a purposeful group of people.  They are here to be cured, to have their lives returned to them, while wondering (or knowing) that the best outcome is less pain and more comfort.

Today we have confidence that survival and resurrection are ahead.  We have hope that the side effects will be minimal and that life can go on as usual.


O God, the strength and the comfort of sufferers: Mercifully accept our prayers, and grant to your servant Barbara. the help of your power, that her sickness may be turned into health, and our hopes into joy; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.