Erma Said It Best

Erma Bombeck really said it best in the title of one of her books:

Family -- The Ties That Bind . . . and Gag!

Case in point:

I called my mom this morning as Jeff and I had not had a great couple of days. This second round of treatment has been easier for him physically, but it was rougher mentally as this time he knew it was coming. Like my dad said when we had lunch today, it's like standing in front of a freight train you can see coming, and that you can't get out of the way of I added. So yeah -- we had been snippier with each other and this morning I was really trying to not take it out on Jeff this morning. My goal was to talk to him later when I had (hopefully) dealt with things better.

But after a quick conversation with him, I was feeling rather emotional and I thought rather than give my husband more to deal with, I'd call my mom. In hindsight, it was a lousy idea. Out of respect for my mom's privacy, suffice it to say we fought, I did my best in my not-great emotional state to apologize before telling her I loved her and hanging up the phone.

On the plus side, I did a) properly sort things out with Jeff and b) had a really good talk with both my sisters. And I finally called upon my church family for some prayer support (why did I hesitate with this?!) along with calling upon some friends who have been fantastic through all my ups and downs.

You know it's a pretty neat thing with family -- siblings and cousins in particular. They know where you're coming from without you having to go into a whole lot of detail to get on the same page. Sometimes, they're even on the right page before you are, which was something I really needed today.

Interestingly enough, upon telling Jeff I got mad at my mom, he said "Good for you." (Mom, don't be mad or offended if you're reading this, please. He just feels I take too much from people in general and don't speak up enough for myself, so it's a case of him being glad I spoke up instead of holding everything in.)

So yeah -- family. Gotta (and do!) love them.

:-P

3 or 4? How About 2 and No More?

If nothing else, much of time I have spent in the hospital with my husband is helping cultivate a lot of patience. Today, for instance, we waited for 45 minutes past his appointment time to see his doctor. About half an hour of that time was spent in an exam room where we did not discover there were magazines until 5 minutes before the doctor came it, but had discovered Jeff's one runner makes a cool squeaking sound. We tried to let the nurses know via Morse code what was going on, but I don't think any of them have been involved in Boy Scouts so our attempts were in vain.

I also got to see the room where Jeff has his treatments and meet some of the nurses he has told me about (including the one he has nicknamed Stabitha, based on the fact that until today she couldn't get his IV in on the first try). It was nice, actually, to see where he spends 3 days of 2 weeks of the month. But it did feel sort of . . . odd to be there. Like I was there, but almost intruding. But that could have just been me, too, as I am a terribly social person to begin with. ;-)

Today was sort of an out of sorts day for us, too. What we thought were 2 or 3 rounds of treatment became 3 or 4 when talking with his doctor. (Jeff's going to ask one of the nurses about the change tomorrow, but he figures it's just the doctor making sure he has all his bases covered.) On the plus side, however, he is being taken off one of the drugs which he could only have administered once/week which meant he went in the past two Mondays for treatments instead of having two full weeks between the 3-day treatment.

Another plus side is I baked the lasagna my sister Diane made for us. Suffice it to say I'll be asking for the recipe as Jeff ate *3* pieces! (And it was just plain delicious!) Boy, my mom and sisters have been fantastic in regards to making sure we stay well-fed! My older sister Susan bought us a variety of 'meals in a bowl' from M&M Meat Shoppe (delicious, nutritious and *fast* (unless using the microwave at work)!); my mom made soups, breakfast cookies (they rock!) and there have been cookies and applesauce and just so much done by them and just all of our family and our church family . . . I don't know if I can ever properly thank them all.

We are blessed.

:-/ . . . :-)

Don't get me wrong -- we have had a really good week overall. Jeff shaved his head (well, he decided to rather than watch his long-ish hair fall out and I actually 'did the deed'), we had a couple of nice evenings out, things went well overall for me at work, Jeff is getting his strength and appetite back *and* he played bass with the praise and worship team before Thursday night's family ministry night at our church.

We even were not all that stressed out by the fender bender we were involved in today.

But I'm finding it can be one thing to say "This next round of treatments will go well and it'll be the last one!" and another thing to really have the confidence in your heart it will happen.

Then I realize that isn't the best thing to be confessing and then (best of all, really!) I'm reminded I'm not in this alone. Jesus already went and provided for it all. I need to 'only believe'.

That doesn't sound hard, does it? And really, it shouldn't be hard.

I guess the biggest issue for me is not having things work out the way I think it should. But I was listening to a Third Day song today and one line mentioned how we must go through the valley to stand upon the mountain of God. So really, these are some valleys we're going through and I don't need to fear them because God *is* with me and He *is* with Jeff and He *has* made provision for us.

We just need to make sure we see it and lay a hold of it when we do.

And that is :-).

So I'm Feeling Kinda Crappy and . . .

. . . rather than bottle it all up inside, I decided to let some friends know about it. And you know what? They didn't freak out or come down on me for it or anything. And in the process, they made me feel a whole lot better. So for that (and for them!) I am most thankful.

One thing that sort of amazes me, I guess, about all this is how well some people think I'm handling it. I tend to chalk that up to everyone not being a witness to my freaking out moments. ;-) But I'm trying to be upfront about when I'm feeling, well, crappy and having questions and all that. So maybe I'm handling things okay, y'know? And did I mention I can be pretty hard on myself?

Last night was a frustrating night that actually turned out pretty good. Jeff was out for the most of the day, but made a valiant effort to be up and mobile so we could go out. But alas, it was not to be. I ended up getting some stuff done around the house before picking up some Gatorade and juice for him and a snack for myself. We then watched some TV together before he went to bed. I zonked out on the couch for a bit before finally making it to bed too. In retrospect, not a bad night. And we had a nice coffee out this afternoon.

Then . . . I get to feeling all weird and down and all that in Chapters, of all places (I love books!). I was reminded of so many things I hadn't done, it seems, and yeah. Bleah. So I took a nap when I got home. Still felt bleah. So I talked to some people about it and then you have the start of this post.

And now I'm feeling pretty good. And I'm thankful for that.

Good Days/Moments

Today was, overall, a good day.

We went to church this morning, where I was glad to have had the foresight last week to ask the person I teach kids' church with (thanks, Helen!) to take my turn this week. Jeff ended up spending the last half of the service in a side room, stretched out on the couch and watching the service on closed-circuit TV. The plan was for my dad to drive him home if need be, but Jeff said he'd wait for me to be done so that was what he did. And at his suggestion (and my dad's not quite a suggestion), I went out for lunch after with my parents, younger sis and her family.

Upon arriving home, Jeff and I went for a walk before he decided he really wanted a pasta salad from the Penny Coffee House. So off we went, where we surprised the barista with the order of one latte and an apple juice (and a small pasta salad, natch), before popping over to London Drugs and then Petland.

Now as I sit downstairs while Jeff is upstairs watching "The Matrix" (I think) for the fourth time, I'm reminded of more of the good days and moments we've had since this all began. There was Jeff, in the hospital post-surgery, telling his dad he used to pride himself on having all his bits and pieces only to be down to one bit now. We had evenings relaxing at home, watching television and snuggling with our cat. There was the happiness last weekend when we discovered The Penny was open again after a week of renovations. And there have been the moments when we knew we had put certain things behind us and began the work of moving forward.

So yeah, this sucks. I don't understand why things are unfolding this way. I don't know what we're missing or have missed to have not received divine healing and wholeness for Jeff. But God has brought good things even out of this and I'll do my best to see and receive them . . . and remember them.

A Temporary 'New Normal'

I may have posted too soon last night. I was downstairs, watching a PVRd (TiVod for any Americans!) episode of "The Daily Show", when in the midst of Jon Stewart declaring Chris Matthews to have been "Burned!" by Barack Obama (or he was ranting against President Bush -- I can't quite remember), I heard the sound of my husband being physically ill upstairs.

Not pleasant to hear, even less pleasant to have to go through.
:-P

He is doing better today, though, after a relaxing morning in bed (we didn't make breakfast, but I did discover a weird little cartoon on TV called "My Goldfish is Evil") and eating a toasted banana muffin. Apple juice also agrees greatly with him, too.

Anyhoo, Jeff made a discovery today which caused him some chagrin -- he can take his anti-nausea medication more often than he initially thought. He can take it every eight hours instead of every twelve hours like he originally thought. At least he discovered it early on and not at the end of all this.

Today's frustration stems from something we were just getting back to normal on post-surgery when wham-o, the chemo started: Jeff being able to do something for 15 minutes without needing an hour-long rest afterward. Okay, I'm exaggerating on the activity-to-rest ratio, but it's not the greatest. I'd like to suggest going out or something, but he's tuckered out after a 10 minute walk. It doesn't help he hasn't been eating much, but we're trying to get him going on eating something every few hours instead of doing '3 squares a day' which don't seem to be working. My older sister dropped off some applesauce (from younger sis!) and some boosted Boost drinks, which I brought downstairs to Jeff a little while ago. So hopefully we'll keep hitting on good foods for him to eat and good things for him to drink so he can get and keep his strength up.

And I really think someone needs to start a latte home delivery business. (I used to drink the instant ones, but then I read the ingredients list. %-P)

I'm working on another blog, so I guess I best go finish that up. And I should see if someone (coughJeffcough) has finished his Boost yet.

(Hey -- I keep forgetting to label my posts here. Though I guess they'd get a bit repetitive after awhile . . .)

Belated Introductions

I just realized I cannot write about what I'm writing about anonymously. It's just too weird and this is just so a 'non anonymous' thing annnnd yeah.

Plus the only people who know about this little site a) already know my name and my husband's name, and b) I'm also not advertising this to everyone we know. So again, yeah.

I'm Michelle.

Hubby is Jeff.

And that's just how it's gonna be from now on. And if I mention anyone by name that we know and you have an issue with it, I will assign you a letter of the alphabet should you want your name removed. I won't think less of you, but you should be prepared for me to call you 'A' or 'Y' or something in public then.

;-)

I'm going to eat some ice cream (why am I adopting the diet of high fat and carbs recommended to Jeff? Ooooh -- comfort food, got it), pray, read, watch some TV and not in that order. Jeff is feeling better and going to get some more sleep. Hopefully we can make breakfast in the a.m. and we're just going to ban ginger ale from his diet for the time being.

Pastor Frank has twice told Jeff via prophetic word that this whole cancer-thing is not the result of anything done wrong by him. It's an attack of the enemy because Jeff has chosen to believe God's Word (I'm fuzzy on the last part, sorry!). (Jeff always says 'us' and 'we', saying it applies to both of us. Depending on the hour, I may or may not agree with him. :-P)

I really need to get it out of my head that this is somehow my fault, a case of where I prayed wrong or believed wrong or didn't believe enough or have just been a slacker Christian who is out of touch with God and certainly not able to touch His provisions. Is it some sort of a pride issue I need to deal with? A trust one? An over-emphasis on works one?

It Should be Quite Simple -- Just Open Your Mouth and . . .

Oddly enough, the thing I'm finding most difficult to do since receiving the results of hubby's CAT scan and the decision was made to go the chemotherapy route is to pray for him.

We had prayed for God's promised divine healing (by Jesus' stripes we are healed) before and after surgery. We prayed for it still after the results of the CAT scan. But when the time came to either start chemotherapy right away or wait 6 weeks, have another CAT scan and go from there . . . well, my husband (courageously, in my opinion) admitted to not knowing with 100% certainty that he was healed. So his chemotherapy began this week. The first two days were were a snap -- no nausea or anything. Some acid reflux and a bad case of the hiccups on day two seemed to be it. But then the evening of day two he ate something that didn't agree with him, was getting worn out by the hiccups,threw up a bit and has been at a steady state of 'bleah' since then.

Yesterday was the worst day -- he hardly ate, slept fitfully until about 11 PM, and we did not go to the weekly family ministry night at our church. The last part was particularly difficult for hubby. Not only was it one more thing he couldn't do, but it was something of great importance to him.

Today he was up and around more, ate a good lunch, but was reminded that ginger ale does not sit well with him when he's feeling nauseous, and just went to lay down a little while ago after apologizing for being such a downer. I'm thinking tonight is hard for him as it's normally our date night -- our time to go out for supper, a good coffee, and some wandering around various stores.

(Here's a thought -- someone should start a latte-to-go business. I could really go for a good latte right now. We have an espresso machine, but it's getting kind of old.)

I'm feeling so ineffective the times I do muster up the courage, I guess, to pray for hubby and with him. It's not that I don't believe God's Word and promises . . . I just feel like I don't have the faith-ability to lay hold of them. I was telling my mom in a tear-filled conversation I feel like I have no faith at the moment. It seems I prayed for one thing and the opposite happened.

:-P

Ack, maybe I'm just being too hard on myself.

I'm struggling with so much and am not even sure how to express it. Where do we go from here? Where is God in all this?

I want my husband to be healthy and whole.

I want my prayers to actually accomplish something.

I want to have our pre-cancer life back, please.

What How Now?

Back in October of '07 when my husband confided in me that he had a hardened testicle, my main concerns were a) did we have the faith to believe for and receive God's divine healing and b) how to get him to see a doctor.

And I've been conflicted over the whole thing ever since, it seems.

My husband was reluctant to go see a doctor as his first fear was he would be diagnosed with testicular cancer, a nasty disease which took his half-brother 14 years ago and claimed the life of an uncle he never knew. My push was to get him into the doctor ASAP because a) it might not be cancer, in which case we could quit worrying and get on with things, or b) it might be cancer, in which case the sooner it was diagnosed and dealt with, the better. Either way I knew I couldn't demand he see a doctor as my husband can be a wee bit stubborn sometimes. So gentle persuasion was needed, which consisted of "Are you going to make a doctor's appointment?" (answer moved from a 'maybe' to a 'soon' over time) before progressing to "Did you make a doctor's appointment?".

Finally, in February, he made a doctor's appointment.

And that's when stuff started to happen.

There were appointments, bloodwork, scans and before we knew it, a date was set for surgery. We spent February 14th at our church's Valentine's Day banquet knowing he was going in the following Wednesday for day surgery and wondering how we were going to tell our families.

But we got through all that -- the breaking of the news, the day surgery which turned into a long day at the hospital and hubby being discharged that Sunday, and the doctor's initial diagnosis of cancer. But we were greatly encouraged by the fact his post-op blood work came back normal. No cancer! Whoot!

Then to wait for the CAT scan which we believed would confirm everything was a-okay.

And boy, did we wait! The CAT scan process took awhile as hubby got to drink some funky stuff, then we waited to see his surgeon. And waited a little bit more. Finally, we were ushered into an exam room to talk with the surgeon. Then we wondered when our world would right it's self.

And we're still waiting.