July 10, 2016
Unbelievable. I don’t know how long it has been since I have added to this journal. It has been a time when most every day would have added much of interest to the story. Several events have been all consuming. Others actually have to do with the cancer journey. I suppose they all are a part of the journey; it just seems they are peripheral and difficult.
I guess, in one sense, it is amazing that my mind, body, and soul can survive such large waves of difficulty. This past week has been a good example. I became very ill on the fourth of July. I ached and hurt all over my body; I felt intense nausea; general malaise would be a gross understatement. I was sick, sick, sick. The following morning I got up for a little while and crawled right back into bed. I don’t remember a time when I did that. I was exhausted, couldn’t eat, and just wanted to sleep, which was not that easy because of the aches and pains. Every joint and muscle wanted to refuse to function. I gathered myself together as best I could, ate a few blueberries, a little toast, drank some tea, and dragged myself into the shower hoping the water would wash some of the “awfulness” away.
Each day was a little better than the one before; today, Sunday, I feel pretty normal. I did not see a doctor, nor did I have any medication but chicken soup. I did, however, have an attending physician, the one who is with me always, the Great Physician. I would guess that the flu or whatever I had, was not a small thing for a body “filled with cancer” to combat. Faith is the strongest medicine. I always ask the Lord what I am to learn from these very interesting challenges on my Journey. There is purpose–that I know. It certainly is not to make me feel miserable.
What makes it all more amazing, I am dealing with some other issues that pull heavily on my anchor of hope. A little over a year ago I had a beautiful new wood floor installed in my living and dining room after a broken pipe flooded the area. I include this story as a part of my journey, because life goes on. Can you imagine what this experience was like for a 95-year-old?