His Hand on Mine

Wednesday this week I had my second round of chemo. We didn't have a great start to the day as I could hardly get out of bed or stay awake on our trip to Rapid City, thanks to the anti-nausea med I was supposed to take the night before chemo. I had hoped to drive at least part of the way so that Jonathan could do some paperwork on his laptop or phone, but I was too dangerously drowsy. He was often on the phone that day trying to help a fellow missionary, Ned Sherman, who was having to put in a propane wall heater for a parishioner. He was also on the phone with Danny at times, working through details of the work crew sawing logs for firewood for the reservation and mission.

   I felt as if there wasn't anything this trip to look forward to--just chemo and the usual stops for business materials and groceries plus a stop at the mill for oats for our animals and another stop at Farm and Fleet for chicken scratch feed. 

Plus, when we arrived at the cancer center, we discovered that though my blood was drawn at 8:40, and then a visit with my oncologist at 9:40, I'd have to wait until 2:00 p.m. for the infusion! I would have to wait four whole hours!

I tried not to fall into despair and managed because I was too out of it to think straight enough to even be upset. 

"You could have the nurse call upstairs," the lady said who had checked me in and helped me know where to go at which time. "She could ask if they could get you in earlier."

So I asked my oncologist about that, and she said her nurse would call up to see if by chance the second floor infusion nurses could work me in. And guess what? 

"She can come right up!" they replied. 

I went right up, and within minutes a very sweet young nurse had me started. 

Each needle poke that day was extra painful, but I got through it. 

The fact that the center could rearrange the schedule for me was such a mercy, that the mercy overshadowed the hard things. 

It reminded me of what a dear man prayed for us at Faith Missionary Chapel in Mitchell Sunday night where we visited and stayed overnight on our way to our medical appointments in Sioux Falls.

"Carry them through this difficult time in their lives," he prayed. 

And God was carrying me. 

There was more than one mercy that chemo day--including the chicken scratch feed we needed being  on sale. 

God was carrying me even when I went to sleep on the way home (again with Jonathan driving due to how drowsy I still was) except when I jerked awake, terrified, when we went over bumps with a trailer on behind.

It was loaded with about 740 pounds of oats to hopefully last our chickens and goats a long time, but it also made the bumps a bit more bumpy. 

But it's the chemo that makes me nearly go through the roof when I jerk awake after I fall asleep after the infusion. It happens nearly every time. 

Jonathan noticed, of course. And as I settled my frantic self back to snooze again, I felt him reach over and just place his hand on mine. 

God was carrying me once again, and I felt not only Jonathan's hand on mine, but His.