Rise

Sometimes, you get a glimpse into the life of another through pain. Today reminded me how blessed I am to see my child, even if only for a short time each week. There are mothers who will never get to hug their child, snuggle, play, or just see their sweet face this side of eternity. I won’t pretend to know the loss of a child, but I will say that you’ve not know pain until you long for your child that you can’t see. It’s a hurt and pain I wish to no mother. It’s hard. Today is a total emotional shit show over here.

It’s day 11 of this inpatient stay. I found out yesterday, that after this 28 day cycle of chemo, then we may be able to start the process for bone marrow transplant. (BMT is a minimum 30 days inpatient.) Basically, we were told I’ll be here for a minimum of two months if all goes well. (Which is different than the 30 days we were originally told.) What does “all goes well” even mean? It means the donor is available within a timely manner, no major side effects, my body accepts the donor cells, and no secondary infections/illnesses. That means two months of longing to hold my child, to kiss her sweet face, to watch her learn and grow. Two plus months of ugly crying in the bathroom when she leaves, after those brief infrequent visits. (If she gets to continue visits after we move to transplant care.)

If you want to be considered as a donor, please register through Gift of Life, or Be the Match. My hospital uses a database where all those applicants are reviewed for possible match.

Our prayer request are the same.

• The facial paralysis from my biopsy procedure heal ASAP. (The swelling has subsided. Praise Him!)
• Complete and total healing.
• My care team and BMT Team. The choices they make regarding my care and treatment plan.
• Minimal side effects from treatment.
• Zero secondary infections or illnesses.
• My BMT donor. May they be blessed abundantly!
• Minimal time in the hospital away from my family.
• Mike’s mental health.
• Ryan’s transition dealing with major changes yet again.
• All of our caregivers health and wellness.

I have spent so much time trying to be still. To just listen for His voice in the silence. When I found out that I had relapsed, I asked God to give me a word. Something that I can meditate on when things get rough. Almost immediately, the word rise came to my mind. I thought for sure that was just something I had heard or seen recently and brushed it off. After weeks of asking, this is still the only word that comes to me. I looked up verses that mention rising. The one that spoke to me was Psalm 113:3. So, that’s just what I’m going to try to do through this traumatic journey. Rise like the sun (slow and steady without fail) and praise Him.

“from the rising of the sun to its setting, the name of the lord is to be praised!”

Psalm 113:3

Praise report!

• The swelling in my face and neck has almost completely resolved.
• I got to visit with my family and best friend today.
• I was able to eat and drink normal today.
• My back pain and urinary pain is much better today.
• I got to talk to my Dad today.

My heart hurts you guys. I have feelings of worthlessness, shame, and guilt. I pray none of you ever experience this journey that is cancer. It’s a hard, isolating, long journey.

Be well ~E~