I seem to be missing my ankles, and I have a lot more foot than I need. Things have swollen up with retained fluids now and I have elephant legs! It's terrible. Fortunately, it isn't uncomfortable at all, but it is a challenge to get my shoes on.
I spent Monday afternoon at the clinic with my parents where I received iv fluids and they did more blood work. I did have a "minor" reaction to the transfusion, so I'm not sure what that means for any future blood I may require. I'm just extremely pleased to be past the worst of it all.
I am feeling so much better today. In fact, I even ventured out on my own in the truck to go pick up a prescription at Wally World. It was a major deal for me. I was wiped out by the time I got home...but that store is huge and I needed other things from one end to the other. There was a definite sense of accomplishment that came with the trip!
In addition to my parents being here Monday afternoon/night, my sister, Sue, and her little boy, Owen, were here as well. It was so great to wake up Tuesday morning and have other people in the house. I can't even begin to explain what a difference it made in my mood and my enjoyment of the morning. Thank you to the four of you for being here for me!!
Now the push is on to just feel better and better so I can have energy and oomph for our family get-together over Mother's Day weekend. My oldest nephew, Alex, is graduating from college, and another nephew, Zachary, is celebrating his birthday. It should be quite the party weekend and I can't wait...especially after being cheated out of MN this past weekend. Please keep me in your prayers that this upward trend continues!
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Hats can say a lot about people
Hats can say a lot about people
About Carol
- KB (for dear Carol)
- WRITTEN BY CAROL: January, 2001: found a lump on my own. Initial diagnosis of breast cancer. Had a lumpectomy, clean margins, no lymph nodes involved. February, 2001: began 4 sessions of chemo (AC) July, 2001: underwent radiation to the right breast Sept, 2001: started Tamoxifen June, 2004: cancer metastasized to my bones July, 2004: had an oophorectomy (removal of my ovaries). Radiation to the neck. Started taking Aromasin, followed later by Femara. Began Zometa infusions August, 2005: Switched to Faslodex injections, along with the Zometa March, 2006: Still on the Zometa, started radiation to the left pelvic area. Will radiate right pelvic immediately after the left (20 sessions each) Plan is to start chemo pills, Xeloda, once radiation is complete
1 comment:
Reflection:
What does it mean to say,
"Into your hands, O Lord,
I commend my spirit."
This is our response to God's redemptive power in Ps 31:3cd-4, 6, 8ab, 16bc, 17.
It's also the final words
of St. Stephen as he was becoming
the first Christian martyr (see reading Acts 6:8-10; 7:54-59).
And of course we recognize these word's as Jesus' last words on the cross.
It's the highest level of trust.
In Matt 10:17-22 Gospel passage, Jesus describes this kind of trust.
He says:
Do not worry about how you will handle any difficulty,
any persecution,
any challenges in your life.
No matter how bleak the future seems,
God holds you in the palm of his hand.
No matter how troubled you feel,
God holds you in the palm of his hand.
No matter how unlovingly others treat you,
no matter how discouraging,
how rejecting,
or how unhelpful they are,
God holds you in the palm of his hand.
God is holding you tenderly, securely, lovingly, protectively.
We want to be protected from trials.
We want God to intervene in our difficulties
so that our lives will become easy and happy.
But God's protection goes much deeper than that.
We could be killed for the faith, like St. Stephen,
and still we are being protected by God,
because no one can steal from us what belongs to God.
Our hearts belong to him, and our minds, our souls, our salvation.
These are held tightly and securely in God's hands for all eternity.
Knowing this erases fear and hopelessness.
"Into your hands, O Lord, I entrust my spirit"
is a cry of victory and glory in the midst of suffering.
Oh, sometimes I say it for quite different reasons.
Often it's my cry of, "Okay, you can stop this suffering now, O Lord. STOP!"
Either way, it's a vocalization of surrendering my problems to God.
It's an expression of, "I give up, I can't do this on my own. I need
You, O Lord."
When we entrust ourselves to God, it's our deepest effort of humility.
Thank God we don't have to wait until we're dying
to commend our spirit into God's hands.
In fact, every form of dying to self -- giving up our pride,
our insistence on having things our way, our impatience,
or any particular sins we confess --
is a moment of entrusting our spirits to the Lord.
Take time today to reflect on what you're giving up.
Do you need to commend over to God any anger or disappointments?
Do you need to give up any fears about the future?
Do you need to give up plans that are not working out anyway?
Do you need to give up any illusions
of not being dependent upon God for everything?
For every letting go, tell the Lord, "Into Your hands, I entrust my spirit"
or "... I entrust this matter"
or "... I entrust this relationship."
In such humility, relief comes, peace grows, and our spirits rest
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