Bitters, try number two.

Last Wednesday, I posted "Bitters" - then took it down.  It was too bitter, too scared, too wearisome for even me to read back to myself.  So I spared all but forty-six of you that caught it.  

This is try number two. 

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Wednesday, May 26, re-do


My blood seems to have an insatiable appetite for self-destruction.  It seems to endlessly be able to find ways to continually get to an all time new low.

My neutrophils were the lowest today ever.

I knew they were going to be low, but I didn't think they were going to be that low.  

So, no chemo treatment this week, and 'they' said, probably not next week either.

If it had not been for my blood transfusion last week, my hemoglobin would have been on the same boat.

I was desperately wanting this white blood cell count to be high enough to get me into chemo soon, so I could ride the "transfusion-high".  But I am back to checking my temperature three times a day, and hoping the bacteria in my body doesn't decide to rise up and cash in on the party.  

Dr. M is an amazing woman.  And I don't know what else to say, but that I need to trust her and she makes it easy.  She explained the fact that even if I did jump out of the study today, I could not get the white blood cell boost injection as a "recovery" tool.  They only like to use it for a "preventive" tool.  And I get that, and we will talk whenever I get my next treatment on which way I want to go.

Which might be right around Christmas from the looks of things.

I'm a little bit despondent at the moment.

We have a ticking clock in our brains, and it starts the surgery count down when Scott was finished with school, and allows him to be there for surgery and recovery without taking any sick days.  The clock ticks off the days I have left in my 'leave of absence' from work. 

It did anyways.  If I had stayed on schedule, right now I would be done with chemo and packing my bag for surgery.  

But it's not happening that way.  My blood is not cooperating even though I have stooped to whispered threats of abuse if it cannot bring itself above it's current antics and misbehavior.  

I know I am not the first cancer patient in this predicament, nor will I be the last, but I don't like it here, sitting in God's waiting room. 

***

And there's more.

Our medical insurance is changing as of July 1st.  Even if it is the best possible of outcomes, it could not happen at a worse time.  I will wait to unload my anxiety on that another day, we just don't have any information yet to know how that is going to affect us.

 ***

Then, this. 

This was the final sucker punch today - the kind of punch that bruises your kidney or breaks a rib taking away your breath - the kind of punch that takes you out of the fight for a bit. 

I didn't see it coming and was slammed with the impact.  I'm in the arena, I should have seen it coming, I should have known it might be part of this round after they rang the bell, but I still didn't think I was open to that type of hit.  

I'm laying on the mat hoping that this eight count gives me something - a little bit of time to recover, to think it out clearer, more prayer time, healing - what is it that I need, oh God?? 

I need to get back into the fight.  Quickly.   

So here's the punch that laid me low - I was told today that five women in the study have already had their surgery.  I was "Study Subject #6".  One dropped out, so that means that one after me has passed me by.  Two had good pathology results. 

The other three had cancer cells.  Scott, aka Mr. Positive, keeps reminding she said one of the three was "microscopic cancer cells".

I am still processing. I don't like those odds.

I know I am nowhere else but in the middle of God's hands.  He keeps showing me that time after time.  No matter how bad or how low or how incredibly hard some days (weeks) are - no matter the pummeling I take with the punches - He keeps showing me that He is my best and only hope.  And He is holding me tight.

There are so many incredible people in my life right now - my doctor, my favorite nurse-study-manager Julie, the nurses there at the center, our friends surrounding us with love and favor and help -- I'm fighting this hard, but I can't help but feel horribly disappointed. 

On the mat trying to catch my breath. 

Today, I'm just kind of more identifying with Elijah running to his hiding place, than Elijah calling down fire from heaven. 

After we got home, I made myself up some fresh cooked cabbage.

***

I think I have made it through the whole audio Bible at least once the past couple of months, and tonight I plan to go back and listen some more.  I started out this whole thing with the knowledge that God is my "Hiding Place".  The place I run to when nothing else in this world makes sense.  The place I am covered and protected.  The place I can talk and not hold back, the place I can unload my burdens, and the place where I cast out my fear. 

There are a couple of references to this in the Scripture - You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.  Psalm 32:7.  

I also love this one - He, My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.  Song of Songs 2:14

The song was made for the movie about the life of Corrie ten Boom.  I have loved it for years as it tells my soul where to go in times of trouble - to my Hiding Place. 

I could not post this past week because I needed time there to sit and think and pray and hope and believe and know that God is still walking with me on this journey. 

I am praying for wisdom in choosing the right medical path.

I am needing His "songs of deliverance"   But more than that, I am praying for His protection and listening to His voice that is sweet to my ear and life to my soul. 

I learned during passover that the Bitters are on the plate.  I need to eat them and savor them and remember the God that delivers.