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When the Unexpected Keeps Showing Up
In one sense, I’m tired of writing about my upcoming chemotherapy. If you’re tired of reading about my perceptions preceding it, sign off now. But I can’t help noticing that lovely things keep showing up. Unexpected. Loving. Delightful. Maybe these are all just flukes. Or maybe not.
I started to notice odd things starting yesterday. I had to get my teeth cleaned. (It turns out that once you begin chemo, you’re not supposed to get dental work until it’s over.) I start chemo on April 6; I had my next cleaning scheduled on April 7. So, we re-scheduled.
I visited the only hygienist I will go to. She is funny and meticulous and a devout Christian and we genuinely like each other. We don’t talk about religion much, but she knows I’m Jewish and we share occasional ideas. I told her why I’d rescheduled, and of course she showed sweet compassion. At the end of the visit, I stood up from the chair, and she said, I’ll be praying for you. And suddenly she said, I’ll pray for you right now! And she opened her arms wide and gave me the warmest hug and recited a beautiful prayer. I knew how she’d probably end it, out of habit, and she didn’t disappoint. She finished with, in Jesus’ name and stumbled and caught herself and said, in the Lord’s name. We pulled back from each other and I said, it’s all good! And we both burst out laughing. I don’t think she’s hugged me before, certainly not during Covid. As I left the office, she came up and I tearfully thanked her for her prayer, and she leaned over and said, of course! We have history together! That’s true: family stories, vacations, politics (she’s conservative) and I felt our bond in her hug.
* * * * *
Today my husband and I went to lunch at our favorite Italian restaurant in Winter Haven. I wanted to have a lovely intimate meal out with my husband before possibly ruining my taste buds temporarily with chemo.
For weeks I’ve been meaning to have my watch battery replaced, and so many small businesses have closed up here, I assumed I couldn’t get it done conveniently. So on a whim, I looked online for jewelry stores in Winter Haven and found Griner’s, a small family-owned business. I called and asked, do you replace watch batteries. Yes, we do. Are you near Arabella’s (the restaurant we were going to)? We’re a couple of blocks away. Great I’ll bring the watch by. She suggested, why don’t you drop it off before lunch and we’ll take care of it. So I did.
Meanwhile, I had this sudden idea of buying a lovely bracelet to commemorate the months of chemo ahead; no matter how challenging the chemo would be, I would have this bracelet with a tiny heart on it, to remind me of all the love in my life. I could see it in my mind’s eye. I told my husband about this idea, and he thought it was a great idea, so when we stopped in the jewelry store after lunch, I explained to the staff person what I was looking for. My husband found it: in the children’s section, there was a small, simple bracelet with a tiny heart on it. Even on my small wrists it was a little too small. But the jeweler offered to create a delicate chain just a little longer. The person who had helped me look around called out to us as we were leaving, you know you’ll want to get something else to mark your finishing the chemo. Jerry and I both laughed aloud in response. I said, of course!
* * * * *
You might ask, what’s the big deal? Maybe it’s because we had a delicious, slow lunch and afternoon out, with the sun shining and the spring leaves beginning to sprout; we have been home so much lately. Maybe it’s because my circumstances call me to pay attention to the ordinary, to appreciate the lovely people I encounter, to enjoy being on a date with my husband. Maybe I just want to make this time one of blessings and warm anticipation of a new, life-changing experience.
Maybe I just want you to know that your being on this journey with me means more than you can know.
Published in Culture
I, too, will be praying for you as you go through this time of anticipation and trial. You are a real bright spot on Ricochet, you share your life with us.
That is so sweet for you to say. I’m a little obsessive–well, maybe a lot obsessive about the upcoming treatment, yet I’m also enjoy each day! It’s crazy! And thanks.
Very lovely post Susan. I was not comfortable sharing my experience while it was going on but I’m glad you are. It gives us the gift of being helpful to you!
And I got a heart at the end of treatment.
Oh my gosh, that is gorgeous!! My little bracelet is pretty simple, but I may go big time when it’s over after seeing your necklace!
This post was one of the nicest things I’ve read in a long time. It’s a shame that sometimes it takes adversity to make us pay attention to the good things in life.
Please keep us updated, Susan, and never for a moment should you imagine that we are tired of reading what you have to say.
Of course, our prayers are with you.
As for chemo, but especially radiation therapy, one guy I know told me I should eat as much as possible before starting. His reasoning was the treatment can cause appetite loss, which makes you eat less, which in turn causes weight loss.
Yep I was given the same advice. Eat whatever appeals to you because there are many things that won’t. You don’t need to compound feeling bad by being weak from weight loss.
The corollary is to make yourself eat even if you can’t taste it, or it tastes bad. Loss of appetite can turn you off of food (why isn’t this a type of diet?).
I’m not sure it makes sense, though I think it will to you. Reading this filled me with an intense feeling of joy and loving-kindness towards you. I like you particularly, especially having met IRL, and pray for you with the intensity of sister-ship (the good kind). Have a joyous holiday–safe travels–and do keep us informed. I think I can presume to speak for many on Ricochet in saying how valued you are here and how invested we are in your wellness. G-d bless and keep you throughout. Don’t hesitate to phone if you want to talk about treatment stuff. Or religious stuff (omer count, very special time!). Or just stuff stuff.
BTW, that Jerry sounds a treasure. You’ll have to come visit us or bring him next year and I’ll meet you in Bal’mer.
You get well and stay well, or I’ll be upset. Your in my prayers.
Praying, Susan.
Ecumenically.
Mostly.
Absolutely Susan. I’m glad you remind us, at least me. Out of sight, out of mind, and I forget to include you in my prayers. And I want you to be in my prayers. So I’ll do it right now before I forget again! G-d bless Susan and May He get you through this. Praying all goes well.
You’ve got to get better so I can give you a hug again.
One other thing nobody expects. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.
On my worst days with chemo (and I had my share), I found myself thinking about some of the brave women in past centuries who battled this cruel disease without the help of this (or just about any) medical intervention — Mary Washington (George’s mom), Nabby Adams Smith (John and Abigail’s daughter), Alice James (Henry’s sister). And somehow I stopped hating the physical challenges I was experiencing quite so intensely … and remembered how lucky I was to live in a time and place where this live-giving treatment was possible.
I never loved chemotherapy, make no mistake. But I am forever thankful for it. Especially 11 years later. I wish the same for you, Susan; may you only know peace and healing and strength in the days ahead!
No kidding!! I need to keep reminding myself. I’m lucky to be treated in 2021. Thanks, @imfine.
Hang in, @susanquinn, there are more people, and more forces, with you than you know.
Just keep “paying attention to the ordinary” in your life. Because, when all’s said and done, that’s what matters.
I hesitate to start this comment with the following quote, but stay with me: “Nothing concentrates the mind like the prospect of being hanged at dawn”. When we have intense life events it does push the senses and make us more appreciative of what it truly means to be alive — connection, beauty, kindness, a sunny day. It is another formation of “stop and smell the roses.” Life is not just getting things done, important as that is, but sensing the experiences we are undergoing and the small but meaningful joys that are there to be collected.
We all pray for a great outcome for you, and know that there will be discomfort ahead. But reading your musings over the years I know your head is right and you are up to the challenge. We are here to take the journey with you.
Thanks, @rodin. I don’t think I quite realized that until you said it. It means a lot.
Thanks, Susan, I wondered where my thoughts might be on April 6th. Now I know and can plan accordingly. Wish you all the best and appreciate Rodin’s comments. Sending you the best thoughts.
We’ll fatten you up!
Oh, gosh yes. No worries there!
-As you go through treatments, you will be a little less active and can spend more quality time with your husband.
-Treatments today will extend the years you will have together.
Lovely, lovely reminder, @eherring! And so very important to me. Thanks!
My very best regards and wishes, as Nero Wolfe once said to Archie Goodwin.
Your positive attitude is as strong as any chemo, and just as important, if not more so. My oncologist once told me he could tell which of his patients were good for the distance after talking with them enough to learn their attitude.
In spite of her difficulties in life, my mother always talked about how a positive attitude was healing. And I completely believed her then, and do now! Thanks @douglaspratt