When You Are Afraid Your Path Will Become Boring

With one cancer treatment added into my regimen after another, the poor little me has been weakening little by little and I'm not able to go on the longer walks as I did the first few weeks. Plus the cooler temperatures of last week are rising back up to 114 today, which means I can't endure the heat for more than a few minutes in the very early hour of sunrise.

And so we just go walking around our complex here, usually on Mary Munde Walk, one direction one day and the other direction the next. 

Or on a morning when I'm fasting before chemo, we'll just walk around the block and up around the fountains.

Me being the worrier that I am, I started worrying about something as simple as not having anything new to see on our morning walks. 

We used to see doves or hummingbirds at the fountains when we first arrived, but no birds are there anymore. The doves flutter up to roofs and the quail families are growing up and the babies aren't so cute anymore.

So my goodness, I am going to be all bored, and I need something new to worry about. 

Well, Sunday morning we decided to simply go down the one street just a little ways in a different direction, and the first thing we noticed, about 50 feet down the sidewalk was this shaggy palm tree.

"I guess that's what palm trees look like when you don't trim them," Jonathan observed.

"Like beards when you don't trim them," I added. 

And then a whole flock of doves or pigeons went suddenly taking off into the air.  

We stood there watching and watching the birds circling, wings beating the air. 

We had only gone a few hundred feet out of our usual way.  

But we had not been bored.

And we went home through a short cut, past this beautiful bougainvillea bush.  

 

 

 No, we had not been bored. 

We just went a few hundred feet a different direction and saw new things with old eyes. 

Sometimes you have to make your own happiness, write your own stories.

Just step out of your beaten path and look for the shaggy palms, listen for the beating wings of doves, and smell the bougainvillae!

 

Our 29th Anniversary

Saturday Jonathan and I celebrated our 29th anniversary. 

When I came out to the kitchen early in the morning, a dozen fresh new roses were in the vase Jonathan had bought for me.

I just feasted and feasted my eyes on those beautiful roses!

Especially in the morning sunshine!

I can smell them on the table near me as I write.

We had decided to travel to Sedona, which was quite a trip in the heat, and I wasn't up to doing much besides ride around in the car.

But we did find the road by Oak Creek, and we found a spot by a big sycamore tree where we could climb down the bank and sit with our feet in the creek.

Despite how hot it was, my feet were simply too cold in the cold creek water. So I sat next to Jonathan on a rock, and we watched a little family upstream. The boys were trying to keep their balance in the creek without falling in. 

One boy's shirt read, "Not fully charged. Will work more later!"

Then a whole Hispanic group came down the bank on the other side and entertained us royally with the way one after another could not let the other guy outdo them for getting into the water--

first feet (shiver, shake, squeal)

then sit in the creek (shiver, shake, screech)

and finally lie down in it and get wet all over (no words!) 

Usually Jonathan and I would prefer to have a quiet place by ourselves, but it was so fun watching those guys shiver and shake in the water that we decided it was better than any movie! Especially since we couldn't understand the language but could understand the shivers and shakes and laughter and squeals. 

We finally picked ourselves up and went on our way, but that was the highlight of our day.

We wanted to visit the Chapel in the Rock. But we didn't realize how much we'd have to walk in the heat, and I didn't think I could do it, so we hailed a little cart and driver who drove us up. 

Next thing I want for South Dakota is a golf cart.  

With a shade over top. 

The chapel was full of incense and the red flicker of candles, and it was almost as hot as outdoors, but we slipped downstairs to the gift shop and bought a couple little things.

And a nice lady took a picture of us together--all 29 years of us!

On the way home, Jonathan took a couple back roads, and we meandered off on one and discovered a bunch of elk.  

They were near this lavendar farm.  

Of course seeing elk rejuvenates Jonathan.  

 I was more interested in the road names that I liked. 

Can you imagine Arizona having a Strawberry Hollow?

I can understand Cactus Wren Way or Saguaro Boulevard or Golden Eagle Trail or even Emerald Wash.

But Strawberry Hollow in Arizona?? 

This Pennsylvania girl loved it!

Then we did stop at a little spot back in the woods and walked a little ways for a bit on something called Arizona Trail.

Which sounded a little more like Arizona. 

There were so many birds there! 

Including this woodpecker!

Roses, red rocks, and making memories!

Rainbow--on the Other Side of the Storm

 Last Sunday I managed to get to church, but halfway through the second song, I was about to keel over in the pew! Jonathan gave me keys to the car, and I went out through the hot oven of the outdoors to the car in the parking lot, turned on the engine and the air conditioning, and collapsed on the back seat. 

I was going to get up and go back in after a while, but when I finally came to and crept back into the church, I could tell the pastor was finishing his final point of his sermon, and he was dismissing!

Well, at least I had tried to go to church!

I didn't try it again that day. That evening, I decided I needed quiet time at a lake before facing an upcoming cancer treatment that I'd been dreading. Jonathan and I took along some supper and ate it in the parking lot near the lake. Then we found a path that went back where few other people were. 

We sat there with our feet in the water,something that always seems to soothe me both body and mind, and just being quiet and watching the sunset.

A few drops of rain were falling, and Jonathan turned to look behind us. And there, faint but present, was a rainbow!

It reminded me of the one I'd seen just three evenings before, while Rose was still with me.

I'd hit one of the lowest spots since I'd been here in Arizona, wishing I could have gotten rid of my cancer more simply as have several of my acquaintances and people I've talked to, and not knowing if what I'm doing here is working. 

I am having to come here to this clinic and get all these treatments, and how do I know if it is helping? (I'm in the 20% class with the HER2+ cancer that is not only more aggressive but also doesn't respond as well to natural treatments). I stood at the glass door of the patio, not knowing if what I was doing was helping, and suddenly started to cry.

"I just don't know!" I wailed into my hands.

Rose didn't say a word, just slipped over and rubbed my shoulder. I think she was crying, too. And then she saw something.

"Mom!" she whispered. "Look!"

I looked up and there was a rainbow beginning to form. Just in that moment of utter despair after four hard weeks here at the clinic, a rainbow once again formed in the sky. Right at that very moment. 

It kept getting larger until it was a full rainbow that Rose could capture with her camera.

Like a rainbow of hope.

I dried my tears. Jesus, You came through again for me!  

The next morning, after such a low evening, after four hard weeks here in Arizona, I noticed something different. The swelling around the primary tumor had gone down significantly--practically overnight! There were no bumps and lumps of congestion around it as had been early in the week, the inflammation was down, I was having next to no pain jabs. Color was closer to normal. The whole thing literally looked like it was healing. I could touch it without sending myself through the roof!

All that day I started feeling better. I was still whoozy after the morning IV of Vitamin C and ALA IV and a new IV of something that binds iron (since cancer loves iron) but leaves me without iron for energy, but I literally felt normal again. Like something had literally happened overnight. Even the lymphatic therapist noticed the difference.

I was just tired. Terribly tired when I came home. Literally exhausted. But minus the awful weakness.

It was a different kind of tired than I have felt in months. This time it is a well kind of tired. Like I have been through the mill but am on the other side.

I was filled with a hope that I had really not felt until that day. Is it possible I will get well again instead of coming down here to crash and not live through it?

So Tuesday morning after all that, before a new treatment that I had been dreading badly, Jonathan and I went out early for a walk. He got some beautiful sunrise pictures, and then turned around, and there behind us was another rainbow!

It was small, just a fragment of one, but a rainbow nevertheless.

It just seemed as if every time I was facing something I was dreading terribly, God was sending a rainbow to touch my heart with hope and calm it with His peace. 

And then Jonathan discovered something on Facebook Messenger that someone had sent us today.

It was this message (above).

I needed that.

I had to keep going through the storm, face a very uncomfortable treatment that left me totally zonked afterward. I knew I had weeks of chemo and herceptin and other treatments left, because I can't stop just because the cancer is getting better. It will just come back.

So I have to keep going through the storm, 

through miserable treatments, 

the waves of nausea and queasiness after chemo treatments when I still have to try to make myself eat things I don't like,

the sickening waves when my liver is detoxing,

the hot winds of Arizona summer temps,

the exhaustion when I am just so tired of it all

and the times of uncertainty and not knowing. 

I must keep going through the storm

because my rainbow is on the other side! 

 

When You Wish for a Good Man to Be President Again

When we arrived here in Fountain Hills a few weeks ago, we noticed statues of several Presidents down near Fountain Lake.

One of them was President Lincoln, and one morning I watched as an elderly gentleman who was walking by paused at this statue and took off his hat.

It was a silent gesture of respect that left a hush in the air.  

If only there were more respect these days, and if only leaders could deserve such respect.

But when we pine for better days with better leaders and feel that we can't do much about the leadership (or lack thereof) that our country has right now,

that is when we must focus on other people in our lives that we can indeed respect, love, and influence.  

 

One of those people is my daughter Rose who was with me for a week, driving me to the clinic and everywhere I needed to go,

 

 seeing that I was taken care of, taking walks with me all over the place, and doing all the dishes for me!

The evening I was in the most pain, after meds settled the pain a little, I asked to be taken to the river half hour away where I could wade a while and see if the cold, running water and grounding would help settle the pain jabs. 

It did! 

The whole hour I was standing in the water, the pain jabs settled down. I was terribly tired that night, after that first IV dose of herceptin, a powerful drug that knocks down HER2+ cancer. But I just stood and stood in the cool river water as together we watched the sunset, watched bats swooping and listened to quiet night sounds.  

We drove together to try to find wild horses--and saw a few.

Her last evening with me she wanted to drive around to see if we could find some javelinas (wild pigs) that many people claim are in the area. Neighbors here say the javelinas come right up into the complex here and leave behind evidence they've been here! They will dig up geraniums and eat the roots. 

Well, we didn't see a single wild pig, but we saw an amazing sunset as rain fell in the distance.   

And we watched lighting strike after lightning strike in the sky behind the saguaro.

And every morning there was the sunrise.  

Because no matter how corrupt a nation's leaders are, God the Creator is still on the throne, and the sun He created continues to rise and set both on the just and the unjust,

and the rain He sends falls on the good and the bad.

And may we be part of the good and the just Who just take time to revere and  honor Him for His goodness and righteousness,

thanking Him each morning for the blessing of a new day to live for Him!

The End of Adera Canyon Trail--Or Not?

 The clinic here makes a big deal about keeping moving through cancer. You do not become anything near a couch potato here! You are kept hopping! Because movement is bad for cancer.

And a big deal is made about getting out in nature--because nature is healing.

Especially when you walk in it barefoot and look for beauty.  

So even in Arizona, 

even when the temperatures are way up above 100, even 110 to 118 many days since we came, we get up early and go for a walk.

I think there was only one morning that I was too weak to go for a walk.  Finding new places to walk makes it fun.  

Although most mornings I only have time to walk the thirty minutes around our complex before leaving for the clinic about 7:30 or 8, there are many trails in the area as well. Especially on Saturday or Sunday we often drive a mile or two or more and find a new trail.

Last Sunday Rose and I drove 7 miles about 5:30 in the morning to walk Adera Canyon Trail at sunrise! 

It was breathtaking!

The spot at Adera Canyon trail actually had several trails that went every which direction. We took Easy Access Trail along the way, and then Overlook Trail, which after a while came to an end.

"I guess it's the end of the trail," I said, disappointed. 

It had been such a fun time, in the cool of the very early morning when I had felt enough energy to walk.

I plodded forward a few feet, thinking to rest a while at the end of the trail... 

 only to discover that the trail did not end after all!

Behind the big rocks, the path turned to a sharp left, and went on!

I stood there with just one thing on my mind.

My cancer.

And the end of the trail for me.   

At some points I have been resigned that if God has a higher purpose for me than to continue living on this earth, it's okay with me.

But what if what I thought might be the end of the road, was just a radical turn in my journey?

What if my path goes on, through this rocky spot, and on for a while longer?

On the way down the trail, we paused to watch a gentle dove which had lit on a branch of a thorny bush. Usually doves are skittish and won't allow a person nearby. But this one just stayed there, quietly perched, like a dove of hope, 

silouetted against an Arizona blue sky.

Like it was just wanting to symbolize hope to a lady with cancer who had wondered if this was the end of the trail for her.

Or not!