Catherine Guthrie

Well, I’ve had a crappy couple of weeks. Chemo is nasty stuff and the inevitable list of nagging side effects (unshakable fatigue, fog, hives, etc…) are getting me down. My body is rebelling and my spirits are flagging. The good news is that today is my last chemo round!!! Mary and I are headed to Indy shortly. Keep your fingers crossed that all goes well and I’m able to cross another treatment milestone off my list.

Wow. I’m feeling SO MUCH better than I’d anticipated. Thank you for your emails, positive thoughts, and mashed potatoes! Chemo makes you weepy, reflective, and uber-cheesy. On that note, an article I stumbled upon last week articulated my feelings about being on the receiving end of so much love. Here’s the snippit that grabbed me:

Our society provides no curriculum or schooling on how to notice love or recognize the many people who love us. Most of  us haven’t been taught that to receive love deeply and transmit it wholeheartedly is a real human possibility, that it can be learned, and that to do so is the key to our deepest well-being. As adults, we need to become newly aware of the love that has infused our lives all along.

From “Love is All Around” by John Makransky, published in Tricycle

But how does one learn to give and receive love? I will NEVER EVER say cancer is a gift. (As one wry friend put it, “if cancer is a gift, you’re not invited to my birthday party.”) But I am open to recognizing how it’s changed me. And, without a doubt, the most profound shift I’ve experienced is my ability to see the love that has infused my life all along.

There is nothing like a celebration to lift one’s spirits. Yesterday was Mary’s birthday and we scheduled a few low-key activities, which culminated in a very small party. (Thanks B+M!) I love a birthday and hers distracted me from my pending gloom and doom. But this morning, I’m afraid there’s no more putting it off. I got up early, swallowed my steroids, packed the cooler, and overfed the pets. Chemo #3 is a tough sell. It’s not the first. It’s not the last. It’s not the half-way mark. It’s just chemo #3. The only upside is that it gets me one step closer to chemo #4—the end.

The second round of chemo knocked me down. Hard. I also had a cold, which REALLY didn’t help. That said, I’ve bounced back pretty darn well and am enjoying life, along with a new sense of hairless normalcy, before the next hit-and-run. Speaking of, an older driver swerved sideways into me and Mary as we drove to Indy for chemo two weeks ago. (Yeah, I know. Could my day have gotten any worse?) Luckily, everyone was fine. Well, except our poor car, which sustained $4,000 worth of damage and is still recovering at the body shop. We made it to chemo 30 minutes late only to have the check-in nurse tell me that my appointment was scheduled for the day before and I’d missed it. WTF?!? I still don’t know what happened with that screw up, but they worked me into the chemo rotation, I got my 3-hour infusion and we limped home in the battered (but running) car. Let’s just hope things go a little more smoothly next time.

Headed to Indy this morning for my second round of chemo.

Lost my hair this week. That was tough. I look like an egg.

Meanwhile, ever grateful for:

• the presence of so many friends and family (even when I want to be a hermit)
• sweet Jamie and her traveling clippers
• the acupuncturist who listened to my pain, said “I can fix that,” and did.
• and my sweetie who bubble-wraps me in love every minute of every day

See ya on the other side.