Having a Moment

Lou's alarm went off at 5:00 AM (I rolled over like a possum).  My alarm went off at 5:30 AM...and then again at 5:37 AM.  Chemo was scheduled for 8:00 AM and Lou wanted to be on the road by 6:00 AM.  He nagged "If we get there earlier than your appointment, they'll take you sooner and we might be able to get out of there quicker".  I can't just roll out of bed like some boy.  I need a quick hose and I need to make sure I have the necessities for the day including my blood thinner shot, some crackers and of course, my makeup.  There wouldn't be time to carefully apply my Lancôme in the house but I can always pretty up on the way.  Never mind the potholes - I just need my makeup, the lighted mirror from the car's sun visor and I got this. 

(Lou and I left 10 minutes after 6, whateva, I got out of the house in record time...and I thought we were leaving too early anyway.)

We walked out of the house into the unforgiving frigid air.  The early morning ice cold smack in the face just topped off the previous several days that had been a little unkind to me.  I'm miles away from my "normal" self.  Mostly house bound and bored, I would detail the side effects that have intensified recently, but I'd no doubt sound like a 90 year old woman complaining how her grandchildren never visit her.  Old woman, no one wants to hear it.  I'll just say this.  If you leaned into my face after my right ear drum's DJ spun the high pitched hit "Ca-Ca-Chemo Tinnitus", and shouted "GRANDMA...HOW ARE YOU FEEEEELING TODAAAY?" my response would start with "let me tell you about my violent medically controlled acid reflux" and conclude with "did I tell you I pee weird?".  
 
Walking toward the car, cranky me started a conversation with God. "Lord, it's cold, I don't feel well and I'm tired. Is this all worth it?".  I felt a few warm tears roll down my chilled cheeks and did my best to quietly open the door to take the passenger seat.  As I sat down and pulled my seat belt forward, I desperately fought back the tears so as not to alarm my husband.  Then Lou started the car.  The moment the key hit the ignition, blasting through the speakers I heard the start of a chorus, as though being sung only to me:

"We were made to be courageous"

Just like that, a line from a song I've casually heard 1,000 times before took on a whole new meaning. It never stops amazing me that the God of all creation not only knows but cares so much to reach little old me (all of us) right on time.  I laughed and thanked Him for the gentle reminder. Those cranky tears were now grateful. No matter what the outcome, march on little soldier, march on!

Psalm 30:11-12 - You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever.

And now, Casting Crowns - "Courageous":

Oh, I'm sorry.  You say you want to know if Lou was right about waking me from my peaceful slumber to leave the house before the rooster crowed?  Yes, he was.  We were back home shoving Turkish food in our faces by 1:00 PM.  That is all.

"Courageous" -  

 

 

Beauty That Can Only Come Through Trials

I recently spent a Sunday supervising my parents as they meticulously unpacked flat compressed wood pieces, sorted through countless screws, studied instructions and assembled two pieces of Ikea kitchen furniture in their living room.  They're celebrating 40 years of marriage this February and I can tell you, in that living room I watched 40 years of joy, trials, disagreements, love and communication unfold before my eyes. 

As kids, we know only what we see, what we overhear and what our parents allow us to hear.  I know they suffered a miscarriage before me, they've lost 3 parents between them and too many loved ones to count.  I remember the loss of a business or two, two cancer surgeries, a hip replacement and financial sacrifices.  Sickness and health, richer or poorer, good times and bad, they've lived it, baby. And despite the struggles they've endured together, their love and commitment to each other is rock solid.  These two people can't stand even the thought of being without each other for mundane chores.  Food shopping?  They have to go together.  Hair cuts?  They have to go together.  Try to get Mom to go somewhere without Dad and Dad will lose his mind.  "We're Velcro! Don't try to separate us!" he'll yell.  Dad, I just want to take Mom to Macy's, we're not running away to join the circus. 

During furniture assembly, they knew when to pick their battles and when it was time for a potato and egg break.  They didn't rush the process, rather, took their time to read through the instructions, talked out each step and made adjustments when pieces didn't fit as the instructions stated.  It was rather amazing to watch.  That Sunday morning they weren't my parents, they were "Mike and Jo, AARP members and champion married couple". 

Before my current health issues, the "in sickness and in health" portion of our vows comprised mostly of a limited line of duty injury or two, some colds, a bad gall bladder, and a kidney stone.  And of course, a few bouts with food poisoning.  Is there anything sexier than passing your spouse a trash bag to vomit in while they're frozen on the toilet?  I don't recall that being covered in our pre-marriage counseling class.

For Lou and me, a big "for worse" trial came between 2004 and 2005.  It almost ended us.   Let me give you a little background.  Lou and I married in classic Italian overkill style  in October, 2000.  We lived in a cute one bedroom apartment that I suffocated with silk flowers and curtains.  I was working as a paralegal for a small law firm in Tribeca and Lou was enjoying his employment as a full time cop and occasional Soldier. All I knew about Lou's monthly military service was this: 

1. One weekend a month, 2 weeks a year our apartment was never so clean. 
2. When he came home from a drill weekend he smelled of diesel fuel and mud.
3. His dirty bags would sit in the living room for a week...Some things never change.
4. I didn't consider myself a military spouse, in fact, I didn't even count his military drills as a part time job.  It was 48-72 hours a month.  He was a cop everyday therefore I was a cop's wife.

I remember asking him on our wedding day if the military would ever send him anywhere.  "Nowhere serious" he said.  "Hurricanes and floods.  They never send us out of the country".

Never say never...

The Duggars had 14 kids when my husband left for his first deployment to Iraq in 2004.   Even before he left, our communication was horrendous and my spiritual life was in the toilet.  Lou went over as an infantryman and I knew he was "outside the wire" daily.  My sleep was completely messed up for 18 months, as I'd wait hours for him to pop on-line to "chat" via instant messenger.  I'd receive word from time to time that someone from the Battalion was killed or medevac'd out of Iraq with serious injuries or vehicles were blown up in roadside bombs, but for endless, agonizing hours, no names of those involved could be disclosed.  When I'd go to sleep I'd pray he wouldn't come home in a box and then an hour later I'd curse him for "choosing the military over me".  I was surviving on anxiety, resentment and late night Ron Popiel infomercials. 

The guys in his company asked me to be their lead Family Readiness Group Volunteer.  Could they have picked a more unqualified, military illiterate, clueless leader whose marriage was hanging by a thread?  I asked Lou why anyone would have chosen me.  Apparently someone remembered I brought them all candy, toothbrushes and playing cards while they worked a Tropical Storm one year.  And it's funny.  My thought, as I stood in Duane Reade buying Lou some necessities during the storm, was very basic kindergarten logic.  How could I bring Lou a toothbrush and candy and not everyone else?  Weren't they too called on short notice?  And so our FRG was born. 

I enlisted the help of some wonderful unit family members, a couple who remain "sisters" today.  I freely admitted to several of them that I was ready to throw in the towel on my own marriage.    I didn't understand at the time why God would allow us to endure such a horrible 18 months.  At one point during the deployment I remember just being physically and emotionally at my limit.  I threw my hands angrily at God and said "If YOU want this marriage fixed, then YOU fix it!".  

We have no idea what kind of "outside of the box" and "wow I didn't see that coming" beauty God can pull out of our messes when we let Him.  

Through my experiences as a military spouse and volunteer, I was able to exit a profession I hated to work for a non-profit I enjoyed.  A couple of years later, and for over 5 years now, I've been able to do what I now love - help military Families, Service members and Veterans.  Ultimately, and what I'm more grateful for, is a marriage of two imperfect people, reconciled in the love of God, hopelessly in love with each other who learned how to communicate and appreciate each other.  If we never endured the trial, we never would have enjoyed where we are together, today. 

Married or not, we all suffer through and are challenged by often unexpected situations in life - loss of a job or home, illness, death of a loved one, the spouse who calls it quits.  There's no denying these terrible times in our lives are painful and try to take us down.  We doubt how anything beautiful or good can come out of our misery.  If you're in the thick of something now, hang on and don't give up!  Evaluate your circumstances, turn it over to God and stand determined to see it through with divine direction.  Luke 1:37 - For nothing is impossible with God.  He said "NOTHING"!

~

2 Corinthians 4:16-17 - Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

 

 

Let's Catch Up!

A few folks expressed concern since I haven't written in a couple of weeks (that's mighty kind of you, thanks).  I tend not to write much if I don't feel God putting anything relevant on my heart to write.  Not sure how much of God's hands are on today's entry but I did want to check in with everyone, especially with those of you who don't have Facebook to see which cat picture I "liked" today to know I'm OK:

It was this one

• I am excited to be able to cook again and move around like a normal person.  God willing the obscene level of upper body swelling that monopolized December, 2012 will never return ever never ever again.  While a year ago I might have taken offense, I've never been more excited to hear  one of my beloved nurses beam with pride and shout "YOU HAVE A NECK!" upon seeing my progress. 
• My weekly mid-morning dose of pre-med IV Benadryl - my imaginary trip to the beach - has turned into a spastic leg twitchin' party.  It's amazing how the body can react differently to the same drug once it becomes familiar with it. 
• Two weeks in a row and my chemo port has been working like a champ!  God and radiology department, thank you!  I explained in a previous post that the chemo port was surgically implanted in my upper right chest, under the skin to make the delivery of chemo and blood transfusions (blood work in general) easier.  A simple needle (either the small needle or the harpoon) is inserted into the port before chemo delivery and removed once the necessary procedure is complete.  I pray weekly for the small needle. 
• I used to fear big, furry spiders.  Now I fear your cough.  If you sneeze on me, I might smack you in the mouth (consider it an open palm of Purell and love).  Please don't dismiss the flu shot.  I got it for my health this and previous years, and not just for me, but for the health of those around me.  20 kids are dead.  20 kids will never celebrate another birthday in this country because of the stinking FLU! 
• Eyebrows?  Check.  Eyelashes?  Check.  Mustache?  Check.  Scalp hair?  Scalp hair?  Makeup?  Check!  Shiny brooch bling on my hats? CHEEEECK!
• My nephew (Christmas Eve post) has been aware of my illness now for a couple of weeks and asked minimal questions of my brother during their talk.  My only regret right now is that I can't attend his sporting events.  An enclosed gymnasium packed with 10 year old boys?  I might as well stick my hands in a Holland Tunnel gas station toilet and rub my eyes.

I'll tell you what threw me for a little loop in this whole process - My pharmaceutically changed taste buds. I've had a 37 year love affair with food.  I married a man who loves to travel with me just to eat.  Even as a child, the most basic stuff - a freshly mashed ripe banana or a good roasted sweet potato would satisfy my baby belly.  Now?  I could throw a sweet potato against a wall, they're useless to me.  Banana?  Ick.  The saddest?  A truly gifted home cook prepared what I know had to be a divine baked spinach dip recently.  Unfortunately all my mouth detected was cardboard and bland cream cheese. 

Overall, despite the big and small challenges, God continues to answer our prayers for joy and peace. I thank you for your continued prayers for healing for me and others in your life facing similar challenges.  You're in my prayers everyday!

Here's a little Matt Maher "Alive Again", just 'cause: