How’s She Doing? Round 2

2 down. 2 more to go. To the halfway point. Number three is next week.

The second treatment has mimicked the first in many ways. The infusion itself was uneventful and smooth. I felt completely normal for the first 2 1/2 days, and then fatigue started coming in waves, peaking on the evening of day 5 and totally gone by day 8. No painful mouth issues, but my taste fluctuated over the first 14 days. Appetite held steady. A rash or two, and some skin dryness.

But, this cycle was different in one major way…I lost my hair. It started coming out on day 15. Though I tried to be prepared for this, it still felt like a punch to the stomach. Real tears, the kind you have to run to a different room to cry, happened. Even in the midst, in the very moment of tears, I felt the Lord pour over me “I am your covering.” Y’all, that’s powerful. In the very moment of my need, He met me and I was open to hearing. (I feel another post about that coming another day.) My scalp was very, very tender – the kind of tender like the way your scalp feels after you’ve been wearing a ponytail all day and finally take it down. Once the shedding started, it was pretty much nonstop. I have a lot of hair, so the shedding was ridiculous. I had my hair lopped off on day 19 (a Friday), and then on Monday afternoon (Chemo day 1 of the second cycle), we shaved my head.

Shaving my head was far less dramatic and tearful than I expected. I offered the opportunity for both kids to cut my hair – Madie jumped at the chance, Reese said no…and then popped up eager to participate. Once they cut it down, Ashley shaved it off. All of this on our back patio, with the dog watching and trying to jump in to “protect” me. All of this was full of such grace. Those moments are frozen in my mind as precious and important. The Lord in His goodness is working on my heart to show me how to believe what He tells me…that I am beautiful, regardless of what the shell of my body shows…and in His goodness, I don’t cringe when I look in the mirror. I can make jokes about my bald head, I can appreciate the difference in how it feels versus when it was covered with heavy hair and how the shower feels amazing when water actually touches your scalp (yes, I had that much hair before).

I didn’t expect how difficult the transition to wearing a wig would be. Beanies and scarves haven’t bothered me at all. But the wig. I have felt so fake wearing it. So little like myself. It’s still not my favorite accessory, but it’s getting better. Scarves on the other hand – they are fun, and beanies are easy (but not in the 80 degree weather we’ve been graced with lately!).

Thankfulness is becoming a permanent state of mind. Being acutely aware of how different these last weeks could have been, and not knowing what the next day (or hour) might bring, has a way of forcing thankfulness (alternatively, one could turn bitter, very bitter). I have always thought of myself as a fairly positive person (a positive person who possesses a snarky sense of humor, no doubt), but this season of life has proven this thought to be truth. In my mind, dwelling on what could be going wrong now or in the future or on what has happened that I didn’t want to happen is simply not helpful. This doesn’t mean that I’m oblivious to the gravity of my diagnosis, but it means that in order to actually live, I’m not dwelling on what may happen on another day. I’m living today the best I can with what I know right now and what is available to me right now. The very basis of my existence is rooted in JOY that comes from my Father.

“These things I have spoken to you so that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be made full.” John 15:11

love to you all,
Devin