From an article originally posted April 29, 2013…
Did you know it only takes 60 seconds to bring me to my knees? Three different blasts of twenty seconds cause my heart much panic and grief. I have struggled from the beginning with this one lonely minute in my day. A minute utterly alone. A minute where no one wants to be where I am, including me.
I started this journey modest and anxious in the room with the ladies as they situated me under the scary snort. I know I was not the first misshapen and amputated woman they had seen, but they were the first to see me. Now, it’s a drill I can quickly get through, but I can’t escape the three separate buzzes of the radiation.
Last night I went to a sweet friend’s house for a time of prayer. I spoke of feeling angry. Not angry with God, but just angry at this minute in my day. I want so much to wake from this consuming nightmare. I long to be on the other side of this journey. I don’t want my now, but it is. For one horrid minute of each day, I’m reminded that I’m sick. For all the other minutes, I pretend that one minute doesn’t exist. I’m weary of treatment and my attitude isn’t as it should be. No pep talks needed.
We have a sweet new couple at Westside. This dear couple has faced a similar journey. My knees almost buckled when we talked through the chemo she will be facing Friday. She named a much feared drug and I’m sure I turned pale. I almost broke down talking to her. I wanted to tell her I would be there to sit with her, but I knew I couldn’t face that room. Not yet. I’m not sure if ever. She was the same when I told her about my radiation. She told me if they asked her to do it again, she couldn’t. We talked about sitting there counting, waiting, waiting, waiting for it to stop. 60 seconds. Oh how I grieve this terrible disease.
Yesterday we prayed against the fear and loneliness that one minute brings, won’t you join us? 19 more minutes to go. I’m beginning to feel the side effects. This is my attempt at not pretending that one minute doesn’t exist. Thank you dear readers for your care and prayers. Avoiding those three twenty second blasts has not helped.