Runaway Roller Coaster

So this is what it feels like to be grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged onto a runaway roller coaster.

On Tuesday the doctor got back to us with the news that I have stage 3, grade 3, non-bulky, follicular lymphoma. Chemotherapy was on its way and I should be hearing from the office soon to schedule it. "Great!," I thought, "more quicksand." But the office called the next day and set us up with chemo class the following Wednesday and the sessions to start that Friday (i.e., a week from yesterday). So Olivia and I went to Mass on Thursday morning and set up dates with friends there to take advantage of our last "normal" week before we began this trip into the unknown. We had been told there are side effects, we can treat them, but you can't always plan around them as the can be random.

However, just before lunch that day the office called back and said we should come in that afternoon for the chemo class and show up the next day ready to start the treatments. What happened to our "last normal week?" I had originally asked if the schedule could be adjusted so that I could attend a cancer retreat at the Rudolf Steiner Health Center in September, thinking that there would be a larger gap between two of my sessions. Bu an early start was the way it needed to be to accommodate those dates. I know I was in shock at the suddenness of this and I'm sure Olivia was as well. I was just starting to wrap my head around the idea that this wasn't a "wait and see" situation and had been looking forward to some time getting used to the idea of chemo.

We had a friend coming for lunch that day who has gone through this (actually an even worse) process. Luckily, we were still able to meet and share a meal with her. What a Godsend! Although everyone's treatment is different, she was able to lovingly demystify the process for us. Not so much the nitty gritty details, but how it affected her and her family. she also had her treatments at the center I to attend and sang their praises highly. This was the information I had been desperately seeking, the human reality behind the clinical trials and survival rates. It renewed my courage and faith in the workings of God through all of this.

So, it was off to class that afternoon (another fear-relieving process) and on to chemo the next day (which I'm still thing of as today, but by the clock that day ended 4 hours ago. One of the drugs I take after the chemo causes drowsiness and one keeps you awake, which probably explains why I'm writing this at 4 in the morning, feeling like I could go on forever while at the same time misspelling every other word (thank you, spellcheck).

I'll save the story of the actual treatment for another post. For now, I'll just say the worst part was that I wrote this post on my iPod (twice!) and deleted it accidentally before I could send it.

Blessings on you all.