It's hard to believe it's been a week since I wrote my last update. At the time of that update, I was feeling good and thinking things were going to improve from there. I had a good day Tuesday, but Wednesday I ended up back in bed for the whole day - not feeling nauseous again, but completely exhausted! I got a little energy back on Thursday, and by Friday I felt almost back to normal. I've continued to feel good through the weekend and today, so I'm hopeful that the chemo will give me one bad week and one good week with each treatment. I also have another drug to add to my arsenal this time, so maybe this go-round will be easier.
This is the week I am expecting to lose my hair. It's different for everyone, but I have read that people typically lose their hair between days 14 and 19 of treatment. I am planning to shave my head ahead of time so I don't have to go through the trauma of finding chunks of hair on my pillow in the morning or having it come off in my hands when I wash it. I've heard of people who do something to mark the loss of their hair - cut it into a something crazy like a Mohawk before they shave it, or have a hairstylist try a new style they've never been brave enough to try before - but I'm not sure those options are quite right for me. If you have any suggestions on what I can do to make this more bearable and possibly add some humor to it, I'd love to hear it.
Last August, I went to my first Beth Moore conference. There were so many things that touched me during the conference, but one of the most powerful was a time of individual reflection on some Scriptures that were displayed on the big screen. At the same time, the worship leader, Travis Cottrell, was singing Just As I Am. It's a hymn that I've always thought is sung too slowly during painfully extended altar calls. But this time, the lyrics felt fresh again: "Just as I am...though tossed about by many a conflict, many a doubt...fightings and fears, within, without...all I need in Thee to find...Thy love unknown has broken every barrier down...O Lamb of God, I come!"
And then Travis added in a new part that's not in the original version. It says: "I come broken to be mended. I come wounded to be healed. I come desperate to be rescued. I come empty to be filled. I come guilty to be pardoned by the blood of Christ the Lamb, and I'm welcomed with open arms, praise God, just as I am." I've spent a year trying to find a recording of this version of the song. I finally found it today. You might think that I'm writing about this because those lyrics speak to me now, as a cancer patient. And I am most definitely in need of healing, "desperate to be rescued" from the cancer that's invaded my body. But those lyrics brought tears streaming down my face even at that conference a year ago.
You don't have to be physically sick to know you're broken, wounded, desperate, empty, and guilty. I think we all feel that way at some point or another. Some of us spend much of our lives feeling that way. This world is a broken place. There is no doubt about that. It's nothing like what it was originally created to be. And until we run into the open arms of Jesus, that won't change for us. We'll never be mended, healed, rescued, filled or pardoned.
But in the arms of Jesus, regardless of our physical circumstances, our healing begins. This is the work of God: to bring restoration and redemption to this fallen world. Sometimes we see that restoration immediately and other times we're asked to wait until we get to the new heaven and new earth. But healing will come. I am so thankful for the hope that brings - to know I'm welcomed with open arms anytime I come, "just as I am," but that I'm not left in that state - I'm lovingly restored. And that is something to sing about. :)
This is the week I am expecting to lose my hair. It's different for everyone, but I have read that people typically lose their hair between days 14 and 19 of treatment. I am planning to shave my head ahead of time so I don't have to go through the trauma of finding chunks of hair on my pillow in the morning or having it come off in my hands when I wash it. I've heard of people who do something to mark the loss of their hair - cut it into a something crazy like a Mohawk before they shave it, or have a hairstylist try a new style they've never been brave enough to try before - but I'm not sure those options are quite right for me. If you have any suggestions on what I can do to make this more bearable and possibly add some humor to it, I'd love to hear it.
Last August, I went to my first Beth Moore conference. There were so many things that touched me during the conference, but one of the most powerful was a time of individual reflection on some Scriptures that were displayed on the big screen. At the same time, the worship leader, Travis Cottrell, was singing Just As I Am. It's a hymn that I've always thought is sung too slowly during painfully extended altar calls. But this time, the lyrics felt fresh again: "Just as I am...though tossed about by many a conflict, many a doubt...fightings and fears, within, without...all I need in Thee to find...Thy love unknown has broken every barrier down...O Lamb of God, I come!"
And then Travis added in a new part that's not in the original version. It says: "I come broken to be mended. I come wounded to be healed. I come desperate to be rescued. I come empty to be filled. I come guilty to be pardoned by the blood of Christ the Lamb, and I'm welcomed with open arms, praise God, just as I am." I've spent a year trying to find a recording of this version of the song. I finally found it today. You might think that I'm writing about this because those lyrics speak to me now, as a cancer patient. And I am most definitely in need of healing, "desperate to be rescued" from the cancer that's invaded my body. But those lyrics brought tears streaming down my face even at that conference a year ago.
You don't have to be physically sick to know you're broken, wounded, desperate, empty, and guilty. I think we all feel that way at some point or another. Some of us spend much of our lives feeling that way. This world is a broken place. There is no doubt about that. It's nothing like what it was originally created to be. And until we run into the open arms of Jesus, that won't change for us. We'll never be mended, healed, rescued, filled or pardoned.
But in the arms of Jesus, regardless of our physical circumstances, our healing begins. This is the work of God: to bring restoration and redemption to this fallen world. Sometimes we see that restoration immediately and other times we're asked to wait until we get to the new heaven and new earth. But healing will come. I am so thankful for the hope that brings - to know I'm welcomed with open arms anytime I come, "just as I am," but that I'm not left in that state - I'm lovingly restored. And that is something to sing about. :)
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