March 28, 2006
“Congratulations!” said Charles as we drove away from the oncologist’s office, “last injections for round three. . . we should celebrate!” So we should, but alas, by this time I have picked up some nausea, nasty metallic taste in the mouth, and the kind of general aches that one might associate with flu. Every injection site of the past seven days has remained sore and tomorrow I commence the Neupogin injections. It’s definitely a “Hold the champagne” moment. I did go for a walk through Sanctuary enjoying earth beneath my feet after experiencing snow for a week. Alphie was ahead of me triumphantly carrying the long dead and moldered remains of a raccoon which he somehow unearthed from beneath a cedar tree, and the meadow larks were singing all around along with the many other birds which have resumed their nesting activities. Everything in the meadow and the forest seems pleased with the moisture that has come and life abounds there.
This past week has been another time of rethinking the future. It stuck me in the predawn hours that how I feel now may be the new “normal”. Already the litany of activities lost is a chant that I have to consciously tune out or I become dreadfully sad. Vicarious enjoyment of friends’ and family travels is enjoyable, true, but a great distance from the actual experiences, the pure fun of teaching little children songs and Sunday School lessons is presently out of reach. . . and on and on. The antidote comes with melody and words – all the years of playing hymns and reading texts have left a gathering of fragments of verses and tunes. Today’s words speak from “There in God’s Garden” (an old text from about 1641 and set to music by K. Lee Scott)
“There in God’s garden stands the Tree of Wisdom, see how its branches reach to us in welcome; hear what the Voice says, ‘Come to me, ye weary! Give me your sickness, give me all your sorrow, I will give blessing.” A hymn writer’s words from so long ago reaches across time to carry me forward into another day, and for this too I am thankful.