Follow, follow, follow, ... follow the yellow brick road ...

My very first answered prayer came at age five. There was someone I was very attached to that had gone away and I was missing them. And one summer night (while I was supposed to be sleeping but instead I was waiting for my mama to get home from choir practice), I prayed with all my heart that God would please let me see that person just one more time. I may have even begged, I don’t remember, but I do know it was a fervent, heart-felt sincere prayer.

And the next day ... yep, the NEXT day, this person came to see me to tell me goodbye. And I knew that God had heard me. It was a pretty powerful revelation.

Yesterday was chemo eight of twelve. And the past week or so I feel as if I have hit a brick wall. Chemo is cumulative so it’s understandable that the strength I had at week 3 or 4 is now diminished at week 8. I’ve been praying for more strength, more energy and realized today that maybe what I need to be praying for is acceptance.

My infusion therapy nurse, Kerry, was an angel in scrubs as she accessed my port (read stabbed me in the chest with a needle. But really, it's no big deal. I love my port.) and inquired about my constitution.

I immediately started telling her just how weary I am. How I don’t feel like doing much of anything, even eat. And, yes, people, it’s bad when I don’t want to eat! I said that I feel empty and depleted and whiney and pathetic and AWFUL. And she stopped, looked me in the eye and said, “You are the most vibrant person I have seen this week!”

She reminded me that I am fighting cancer here, not receiving weekly botox treatments. That the effects of chemo are stacking up against me but that it’s clear evidence that the meds are doing their job. That housework and the rest of my life will wait for me. That maybe I’m being much too hard on myself. I hugged her, squeezed her and thanked her. She said that I had blessed her, but I can’t possibly see how. She was the first little present of the day.

Chemo eight was uneventful, painless and a breeze. Snagged a power nap and woke to the nurse removing my blood pressure cuff. And since it was an early ‘out’, we headed to the café downstairs to grab some lunch and kill time until my 3:00 oncology checkup appointment.

Dave and I got separated in the lunch crowd and when I rounded the corner to the seating area and scanned the horizon for my Dave but it was another, different but familiar, face looked back at me and I read the words on his lips, “Is that Darlene?”

Lately, like since I lost my hair, I am convinced that I no longer resemble the person formerly known as me, so I introduce myself to people all the time. And yes, they tend to look at me like I am nuts, smile and say .. “I know who you are!” So I was relieved (and grateful!) that right off the bat, hair or no hair, crazy hat or not, my friend recognized me. We’ve known each other since we were six but we looked really, really different then.

Giant, smooshy hugs ensued. He was there with his beautiful wife and sweet mama, also a patient at MDA. We lunched together and shared memories and our cancer treatment routines and before I knew it, nearly two hours had passed. I was recharged. And grateful for my second gift of the day. I figured this was God’s way of saying, “I know you have had a really bad week and you probably don’t think I am even paying attention, so here ya go. You’re welcome.”

Life is so strange. Just when you think you finally know who you are, where you’re headed, what your life is all about God throws a few detours, obstacles and mountain ranges in your path. It’s all good though sometimes hard to swallow. Having cancer is nothing like I thought it might be. My reaction to having cancer is nothing like I thought it would be. Chemo and M D Anderson are not at all like I imagined they would be.

God thought I needed a scenery change. He also decided maybe I needed a “makeover”. And whatever illusions I had about myself and mortality, He decided to rewrite and edit those as well. But, He also made sure that all the groundwork was in place for me to be treated at the best possible place on Planet Earth. He lined up all the dots and dashes, laid a big ole yellow brick road and set me on it with my own personal Tin Man (who happens to have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen.) There have been no wicked witches or flying monkeys. Only beautiful, beautiful munkins and lovely fairy godmothers all along the way.

I have no idea what’s coming next but I’m not afraid. And I know that if God wants me tired .. who I am to argue? Maybe it’s His way of making me stop and think and be in awe of how He works. Like when I was five. Is He something, or what?