Here We Go Again

I put off making the phone call as long as I could. I made the beds, cleaned the counters, scrubbed toilets, wrapped Christmas presents, browsed social media, ate my weight in Chex party mix.

And then I pulled on the big girl pants and called Vanderbilt Ingraham Cancer Center to let them know I was choosing to participate in the Taxol clinical trial that will turn our everyday life upside down, make me bald again, send me retreating to my recently refreshed bedroom with joint aches, nausea, and fatigue.

It also just might kill the cancer that is apparently continuing to grow in my abdomen. To be perfectly honest, I mostly just feel like a hypochondriac because growing cancer doesn't seem quite real, but actual medical doctors and bloodwork and scans tell me otherwise. 

The next 10-12 days are be jam packed with Christmas parties, music recitals, holiday programs, baking, celebrating. Fast and furious even under the best of circumstances. Details to iron out, logistics to manage. I don't know that I feel actual gratitude for this clinical trial or solid peace about the upcoming months, but I'm not falling apart either. Small victories.

From last Sunday's sermon right before we saw Dr. C:

Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, 'my grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me . . . For when I am weak, then I am strong. II Corinthians 12:8-10

Lots of required tests and appointments next week, then a full day of chemo on December 19. I actually wrote this post last Wednesday, but have had a hard time making myself publish it. Sharing the news makes it feel like reality.

While a part of me rebels against needing to be thankful about any part of cancer, doctors, or chemo, it would be so ungrateful not to acknowledge that God has worked out many, many details in the past week as well as blessed us through our friends and family. Here are just a few ways:

• This clinical trial is very small (as in, only 45 slots in the entire U.S.); it is no coincidence that there was an opening the exact day that I saw Dr. C. 
• Instead of having to change oncologists, the clinical trial team has granted Dr. C permission to continue as my oncologist. This feels significant to me not only because continuity of care is important but I also just flat out hate change.
• I have a bazillion appointments/medical tests next week. The research assistant was able to schedule everything in one day (on my regular day off) even though she insisted it would be impossible. It's going to make for a crazy long day, but I won't have to miss my last week of work for these tests.
• The first 4 weeks of the chemo cycle will be grueling (four days in a row during the first week alone). Brian's Christmas break starts earlier than usual this year, and he will be able to accompany me without using sick days. Still working out logistics for future cycles.
• We do not have to cancel our Christmas trip. Missing our family Christmas would have been devastating.
• Our dear sweet friend Kellie is making a special trip to Clarksville Monday so that we'll have updated family photos before my hair falls out. Seriously, don't put off family pictures. They are a treasure and should be a priority. I am so thankful to Becky for arranging this and so thankful Kellie is willing to sacrifice her time for these pictures.

If you want to keep up with me and our family, scroll down to the bottom of the page and sign up for email updates. Fair warning: I'll be back on the heavy duty steroids that keep me up all night writing many words and publishing long lists.