June 9, 2007
This week had to be lived through, rather than lived. I sat on the side of the bed several mornings ago and realized that outside of a series of Chemotherapy, the way I felt would mean that I was really, really sick. It has been like a dreadful ongoing flu, complete with head, bone and muscle aches, nausea, stomach cramps, and no energy at all. I have lost about seven pounds so far, and my movements are those of the old, old woman that normally walks in my future rather than within. Now, two days after the seven days of injections, I have had lessening symptoms, and my spirits are beginning to creep up from their totally flattened state. My prayers have taken on the tone of the sorely tried. . . . “Is this really necessary?” and “Please, oh please. . .” Charles has proven to be a cheerleader with skills far above troupes of others; his optimism is unflagging, and his approaches toward carrying me onward are ever creative. Among other things, he has coaxed me into the MGB to ride through the incredible June air with the wind flying past and carrying the present trials away if only for a few moments.
A series of freezing nights this spring set back many flowering plants, including the day lilies that lay yellow and defeated on the ground for many days afterwards. Then, rains came, followed by good sun and now there is triumph shooting upward from new green plants. The bloom stalks are taller and more numerous than they have ever been, and a huge celebration of color is soon to arrive at the front of the house. Meanwhile, tucked under some cone flowers, a winter aster is blooming – it appears that even plants can become confused. Sanctuary flourishes, with wild roses and honeysuckle presently in flower and mulberry trees already covered in fruit. The birds are bringing their fledges to the feeders and all through nature, life appears to be good.