Chemo Today
I’m sitting in bed, having endured another round of chemo today in Oklahoma City. I’m barely hanging on. I have zero energy, my brain is fogged up (as Ray Davies might say), my stomach is churning, and I’m on the verge of barfing.
But I had a brief moment of semi-okayness, so I checked my email. Some wonderful notes were in there, and they cheered me up, despite how crappy I feel. I heard from two of my best friends, one who was best man in my wedding and another who is on the short list of the kindest, most giving people I know. A family who doesn’t know me, but knows LeAnn, wrote to praise her. A friend from college wrote to encourage me and to tell me how this series had helped her reconnect with someone dear. My sister sent some good news. Someone I don’t know offered a small act of kindness. Someone else wrote about Maddye. And I heard from a writer friend who wrote a moving note about making memories.
Chemo days are not the best ones for making memories. I’m challenged by my own words to remember that life is real and to do your best to make a memory every day.
But I’ve done pretty good with this today. For today my wife drove me through a sleet and ice storm so we could get chemo over with. And today I reminded my son of a song he started the other day, but never finished. He started working on it again and it has great potential. And today I received the notes I’ve mentioned, which were memories for me and hopefully for those who sent them.
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Comments
Mr. Chastain,
I just stumbled across an article on newsok.com outlining you. I just felt compelled to write and offer you some encourgement. I don’t have any idea what you are going through but know that I will be praying for you. May the Lord grant you and your family strength in the days ahead and may you be ever reminded that the Lord is near and His grace is sufficient.
2 Corinthians 12:9-10 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
Philippians 4:6-7 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
John 3:16 16 “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
In Him,
James Cox
Dear Jim:
I’m a retired Engineer living in Norman. I understand you are 44 and I can’t help but recall my life at your age – the best years of my life. I’m 74 now. If I could take your cancer into my body and give you those 30 years I would do so in a heartbeat. I would also throw in a fairly good right arm. You’re in my prayers.
C R Holt
I’ve wanted to write to you before now, but decided that today was the day after reading your latest post! I am so sorry that the chemo has you feeling down, but as you’ve done so many other times, I’m sure that you will make it through this treatment, also.
Before your latest trip to Houston and the great news that you have more time to beat this dreaded cancer, I was going to talk to you about the last stages of life. However, since things are different right now, I won’t talk about that but talk about something you are already doing . . .living life for the moment! Death is a trip that we are all destined to take – some people are already packed for it and others go through life acting as if they are not going to take this final trip. The deaths of family members that I have been able to share lead me to know that it is best for all of us to be prepared.
I empathize for your family and close friends who are sharing this battle with you. That task looms like a dark cloud every waking moment, but always know that it is one they will learn much from. I have been fortunate to have been with my husband when he was treated for testicular cancer; with my dad who died with lung cancer at the age of 64; and with my sister who battled diabetes and lost the fight at the age of 42. I say that I was fortunate only because I have learned the valuable lesson that life is so uncertain for all of us – good health and bad – and that it isn’t the quantity of time we have, but the quality with which we chose to live that time. I was with my dad and sister when they took those last precious breaths, and for me, I have been forever changed.
I lost another sister in a tragic car-pedestrian accident, and for me, that loss was so much more tragic than the prolonged deaths of my dad and younger sister. I guess because we didn’t have the time to share the last few minutes in which we might have said our final goodbyes.
I hope that you and your family will have better days ahead and that you will continue to be able to “make memories.” These will be what your family looks back to – not the days of chemo, sickness, etc. – but only to the good things that you accomplished during this battle! I can promise you that first hand!
I wish you the best and many better days ahead! Cyndi Fagan