Whatta Rock

Last week, while I was receiving my 7th treatment, I discovered that Chemo Nurse Annie shares my passion for gardening. 

I told her that my hubby had it in his head to build a greenhouse in the coming weeks, but I wasn't sure how that would work with all this chemo stuff and the weekly trips to Anchorage. I worried aloud that a construction project would be too much for him to take on while being my Resident Rock. While I've been on the receiving end of some pretty tremendous love and help, I told her, it seemed like my awesomely supportive husband didn't have access to nearly the same kind of help.

"You know," she said quietly, "I think a greenhouse is a good thing for him to build. I think it helps him work through this stuff. And in a big way, he's getting support simply by caring for you because it's something that matters and it's making a difference."

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I began a sentence to a longtime friend: "When we learned that we had breast cancer ..." before stopping with a laugh. I clarified that my husband didn't have breast cancer - but she quickly corrected me. He had breast cancer because I had breast cancer. And boy, was she right.

He has stood beside me when I have had a mouth full of sores, and when I spent half the day in bed sleeping. He shaved my head for me, and has held my hand when I have grappled with the idea of leaving this planet sooner than I'd anticipated. Recently, I was going through the nastiest side effects to date, and my whole being felt like it was shutting down. I looked at John, and said miserably: "I feel like my body is dying right now."

[I had tried to stop myself from saying those words out loud - I mean, seriously? I knew it was selfish and tried to silence myself but I was feeling scared, and knew that verbalizing that thought would make it less scary ... at least for me.]

He looked at me, his eyes dripping compassion, and said firmly: "You are not dying right now. You just feel like crap."

What a rock, this man of mine. I'm so glad I have him to lean on during this maelstrom. But then I have another Rock that I'm so glad to call my own, and to share with my husband.


“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock." Matthew 7:24-25

Knowing that there is a purpose and a plan makes the storm surrounding this illness seem so much dinkier! It fills me with relief and makes me actually glad.


Tomorrow marks the halfway point with this chemo: Eight down, eight to go. The taxol has made my hands feel like stumps - my fingers feel stiff and fumbly, making buttons and shoelaces a challenge. My darkening fingernails feel like they are separating from my fingers - we'll be talking to the oncologist about all this tomorrow to see what he says.


In the meantime, I've got to figure out my Goth name before these nails of mine become fully black!