November 18, 2008
Warm sunlight again today – we are in a pattern of cold, grey days with lovely warm ones interspersed. The hunting season began on Saturday, so there are bewildered deer standing in the pasture even during the daylight hours. Usually, they are tucked into their hiding places awaiting the evening so they can begin their nocturnal lives, but rifles are sounding off around Sanctuary in every direction at sunrise and sunset, and the more fortunate deer select to come into our well protected “No Hunting” area. Alphie throws up his nose and sorts out scents but usually continues his happy trot on the paths rather than rushing into the trees and tall grasses.
This week I am once again contemplating end times. We are all dying incrementally every day, of course, but I must say, very few of us make a career out of it. My own experience since the cancer diagnosis seems to be giving me serial opportunities to view end times, and truthfully, I would just as soon try a different approach. This week, the blood readings show that I am losing ground in the red blood with the white count already decimated. When you have two out of the three blood systems (white cells, red cells, and platelets) in trouble, you are indeed in trouble. The disease appears to have moved off of the “suspended animation” phase, and is moving on. The antibiotic that I am taking for the wicked lung thing is helping that to slowly improve, but the energy level is diminishing at the same time. When the red blood counts move down far enough, I will begin to get blood transfusions. There is a chemotherapy that I can also try as a last resort to buy more time, but it has the usual caveats which place all on a scale weighing out benefits vs. trials. The benefits from the red blood transfusions last three weeks or so the first time, then perhaps two weeks, then one week, and finally, just a few days. This is what we were told by the oncologist, whom we presume speaks from experience.
Meanwhile, I have taken myself out with the bright aqua mask on. At first, I felt as though everyone must be looking, and many did give me a quick glance. Sadly, my smile is hidden and human interaction is curtailed since the signal is clear that you wish to keep your distance. The advantage is that I feel more secure and other than appearing as though I have grown a very large and snug beak, it’s all right.
Charles and I deal with life in this setting by placing ourselves into God’s care. Since the actual transfer from earth to heaven has not yet occurred as humanly predicted more than once, we have cause to “watch and pray” and hope for continued miracles. Of course, this isn’t instant or easy, but it is the only way to hold back the darkness. . . everything else is unthinkable.