1/28/12 - In the Garden

I awoke Thursday morning feeling okay, not great, but better than the day before.  Bodhi and I went on our morning walk.  My fav cinnamon toast did not sound appealing to me, so for breakfast I had a small bowl of raspberries and blueberries... "superfoods!"  Just before Ric and I went out the door, I felt a slight twinge of nausea, so I grabbed the bottle of Phenergan and tossed it in my purse... just in case.  I arrived at work an hour and a half before air time, ready for the day.  As I sat at my desk, the twinge came back.  Could this be nausea?  A week after chemo?  Surely not.  One more, a little stronger... so I took the pill.  Walking down the stairs to the studio pretty much did me in.  Steve asked if I was okay, and I told him I would be. I saw a piece of pink paper and it made me sick.  I took a pen out of the drawer... it was green and made me sicker.  The colors on the calendar were nauseating.  I became sicker and sicker.  I can't remember exactly what happened next.  I think Steve came back in the studio.  I asked him to find Ric.  Seems like there were a lot of people around.  Ric was on the phone with the doctor.  Our friend Johnny took me home.  And so it began... more than 24 hours of dynamic nausea. 

Writhing in bed.  Groaning, sobbing.  Looking back I can imagine physical infirmities that would be far worse, but at the time, for me, it was agony.  At some point I recall moaning, "I can't do this.  I can't do this."  I don't know how long I said it, but I heard a sweet voice say to me, "Jeanne, say 'I CAN do this.'"  So I did.  I repeated it over and over.  And calmed down.  And I remembered that this too shall pass... this is temporary.  Instructions from Karen, my oncology nurse, were to alternate Phenergan and Zofran every four hours.  As it became clear that every four hours wasn't going to cut it, I began alternating every three hours.

Yesterday morning, Friday, I woke feeling better, but exhausted.  The nausea now only came when I sat up.  So kept up my Ph/Z regimen.  I was disappointed not to be able to take Ric to his chemo treatment.  I had planned to help him get settled in and then go to work.  However, I was still a little sick and had no strength to drive.  Thanks to our buddy, Matt, for getting him there!  Shortly after Ric left, I was in for another surprise.  I ran to the bathroom with extreme nausea and in utter pain.  As I started to gag, my arms and hands felt like electric shocks were going through them!  I tried to shake my arms, hold them in the air, put them down... worse, worse, worse.  I needed to call 911.  My phone was in the bedroom.  I couldn't leave the bathroom.  Finally, the nausea was over.  I let myself fall down onto the floor... my arms, hands and fingers still raging with shock.  I couldn't go anywhere.  The only thing to do was to try to breathe slowly and relax.  Eventually, everything subsided.  I went back to bed.  I slept.

Sometime in the afternoon, I awoke, felt good, and posted so on Facebook.  I was even hungry for the first time!  I ate a piece of toast, then felt slightly nauseous, just slightly.  Took a pill for it.  By evening, I felt I had made it through the fire!  Whew!  That was a tough one.  Ric and I ate dinner, watched some TV... both of us (the chemo couple) feeling good.

Little did I know I still had one more side effect to deal with:  sleeplessness!  Not surprising considering how much I had slept during the past two days.  I finished Ellen Degeneres' new book, "Seriously... I'm Kidding," studied Spanish verbs and grammar, posted on Facebook, emailed my daughter, started a new book by Elizabeth Berg, and when I could no longer concentrate on reading, played Bejeweled on my iPhone!  I watched the clock change from 1:30 to 3:00 to 4:31!  Even though I felt wide awake, I decided to lay down and see if sleep would come.  As I waited for sleep, I pondered turning on the computer and updating the blog.  But instead I woke up screaming!  You've got to be kidding me!!! A nightmare?  I dreamed that... no, it's too awful... don't even want it in writing.  Back to sleep.  Screamed myself awake again.  Changed position in bed. Two more.  Frightening, terrifying nightmares.  I lay there wondering when I would get a break... when I would have normalcy in my life again.  I felt so alone.  I prayed each time for a comfortable sleep.  Yet I had one nightmare after another.  I was angry, sad, and definitely not being brave.  The clock said 5:19.  I got out of bed, turned on the lights, walked around the house, and came back to bed exhausted.  This time I stayed asleep, but woke up very well aware that it had been a nightmarish hour and a half.

I went into the bathroom and took out my pony tail holder, and along with it came a handful of hair.  I've been well ready to lose my hair, and even have fun with wigs, but did it have to be this morning?  Did I really have to be kicked while I was down?  Really?  Brushed my hair, and threw a couple more handfuls in the trash.

Bodhi needed out, and I was ready to get out of the house.  Off we went!  I made it up the hill with no problem at all... the fresh air felt terrific... and Bodhi seemed happy to have me walking with him again.

So... Jeanne.  What now?  You finished feeling sorry for yourself?  Remember how you're always telling people that there's something to be grateful for in every day?  Eat your words, my dear!  Five things... write 'em down!

My Gratitude List:

1. The nausea is over.
2. I was able to walk Bodhi this morning.
3. My best friend since we were 3, Debby (who recently finished her own treatments for cancer), wrote to me last night telling me to remember that whether it's a good day or bad one "every day you wake up is a day closer to being healthy again."
4. My Spanish is better today than it was yesterday.
5. I had a visitor during the night...

♫ ♪ I come to the garden alone... 

while the dew is still on the roses...

And the voice I hear, falling on my ear...

the Son of God discloses... ♪ ♫

"In the Garden"?  Why was this old hymn running through my head?  I haven't heard it in years.

♫ ♪ He speaks and the sound of his voice... 

is so sweet the birds hush their singing... ♪ ♫

 "In the Garden"... my grandma's favorite hymn.  My grandma who died of breast cancer many years ago.

♫ ♪ And the melody that he gave to me, 

within my heart is ringing... ♪ ♫

Mamaw?  Are you here?!  Are you here, Mamaw?  You are!  It was your sweet voice that told me I could do this.  You've had me snuggled up to your chest this whole time.

♫ ♪ And he walks with me, and he talks with me, 

and he tells me I am his own...

And the joy we share as we tarry there, 

none other has ever known. ♪ ♫

Ahhhh... I was right back in the heart of my grandmother's home... the kitchen.  She was cutting out cookies and so was I, with my own tiny little set of cookie cutters.  Next, she'd make biscuits for dinner, and everybody would be there.  But for now, it was just me and Mamaw, in her big warm cozy kitchen.  I felt safe and secure by her side.  We giggled as she slipped me a piece of cookie dough to eat.

Did I start missing my grandma?  No.  No, not at all.  Because in those moments we were together.  You can't miss someone who's right there.  I realized then that memories are as real as physically touching someone.  I was in her kitchen.  I was in her vegetable garden.  We were on the back porch stringing beans.  I was helping her plant flowers.  It was as if I were 6 years old again in Keyser, West Virginia, on vacation at my grandma's house.  No, it wasn't as if... it was real.  Mamaw and I were together last night.

♫ ♪ And she walks with me, and she talks with me, 

and she tells me I am her own...

And the joy we share as we tarry there, 

none other has ever known. ♪ ♫