"...grace enough to bear it..."

It is a good thing to be without a trouble; but it is a better thing to have a trouble, and know how to get grace enough to bear it.” ~Spurgeon  Anne Voskamp

I read this quickly as I head out the door for chemo.  "Grace enough to bear it " echoes through my head.  It is my mantra for the day.

As I settled into the waiting room early yesterday morning at Roger Maris, waiting for my pager to flash signaling my turn for blood work, I scanned the full room.  An older grandfatherly type sat just kitty-corner from me.  Was he a patient?  I am often surprised when I see a flash go off and notice the pager is not in the hands of the one I thought was the cancer patient.  But the next flash I saw was from the pager in his hands and off he went.  

Everything was running behind and there was an unusual amount of waiting yesterday.  

Except for Dr. Panwalkar who throws open the door promptly at 9:45 am.  From the doorway, In a thick Indian accent he says my name and it resembles something like this "Wicky,"  "Wicky I have your scan results, everything's good!"  "Liver still clear, spine and lymph nodes stable."  

I match his smile, knowing I have been given another reprieve.  I have earned the golden ticket to 3 more treatments of TDM1, "the miracle" drug.  Prayers are being answered!  I am counting grace.

Yet, I have to honestly tell him I've struggled with more fatigue.  I've been less able to do as much.  Dr. P is thorough in his questions and takes everything in.  

He thumps my spine, checks my liver, listens to my lungs.  He goes to check my feet, but my tall boots cover my ankles.  I carefully unzip one so he can see, I have no swelling.  The strain on my back causes me to leave the boot unzipped as he asks me to lie back.  Sensing the problem, Dr. P carefully reaches over and zips the boot for me.  Its such a simple, unadorned, gesture, but it leaves me touched by his compassion, and I count grace.

I have just one more "new thing" to share with him.  I have had some dizziness.  Its hard to describe, but its almost like vertigo sometimes.  Its been a mild symptom, but it visits often.  He again questions me thoroughly and suggests we do an mri.  I smile when I add "with sedation."  He laughs and says yes.  Either I am experiencing side effects from the treatment, which is what we suspect, or some new activity has started in my brain.  Waiting takes over once again.  Next week I will have the mri. But I will deal with that next week.  Today is grace.

We conclude our visit and he walks me to the infusion center.  As he turns to leave, he places his hand on my back and says "I'll see you in three weeks."  Compassion and grace.

I sit shivering in the infusion center waiting room.  A stranger sees me with my arms wrapped around myself... "would you like my coat?"  "Its all warmed up and I don't need it?"  

Another woman nearby suggests I ask for a warmed blanket.  I smile and say no thank you, I'll settle into a warm blanket when I get my room.  But of course I count more grace.  You don't find many "strangers" at the infusion center, just unfamiliar faces disguising the grace within.

My infusion concludes uneventfully.  Rick is out of town with Nolan, but as luck would have it, my friend Carrie is working and offers me a ride home.  Grace.

I walk down the hall out to the lobby and notice the same grandfatherly man from the morning, walking next to me.  "You're still here too?" he asks.  "yes," I say, "its been a long day."  We've been there for 7 hours.  "Well," he says, "even though the days get long, I guess it sure beats the alternative."  I laugh as I see he gets it.  He is grace too.  We don't do this because we WANT to, we simply HAVE to.  

I arrive home to a sick little boy with flushed cheeks, a fever and achy body, wrapped in a blanket next to Grandma on the couch.  

And even in this, is grace.  It affords us the time to snuggle in bed and doze on and off, sipping our sprite, nibbling on crackers and just being quiet with each other.  

Even Crosby has gone to the neighbors for a "sleepover."  I take my meds and drift off to sleep, fully steeped in "grace enough to bear it."  

I am continually humbled and awed at how much each and every one of you, show up, love on me and my family and continue to sustain through prayers, and kind gestures.  I pray often that God multiplies back to you tenfold, the blessing you are to me.