As hard as I am working on it, it still shows up.
It showed up this weekend big time.
Threw up once, woke up about seven times, cried to rob.
And I still have two weeks to go.
I think it’s because I’ve been blowing through treatments. Every three months for the last year I’ve had to go lay in a coffin like tube for an hour or so, wait two days, then hear where the cancer has continued to spread and start a new line of treatment with fun side effects.
All while gulping Chinese herbs, ninety pills a day, walking a mile every morning even while in pain, meditating, doing yoga, waking at 5:00 so I breathe highly oxygenated air while the birds sing, take detox baths, dry brush, drink organic juices, work on my vagus nerve, research fascia, see a Frenchwoman and a shaman, spend thousands of dollars on supplements, research new therapies day and night, read self help books to release trauma, and pray to Jesus.
What else can I do???
All while in pain in the bones and joints and questioning if the pain is side effects or cancer spreading…. while putting on a brave face because who wants to be around scared Keri? She’s no fun. What a downer.
The truth is there has been more cancer in more and more parts of the body. I may be doing too good of a job pretending everything is ok. I’ve been told the cancer is too sad for some to handle, so people have “ghosted” me. Which then makes me pretend even harder that I’m ok. I pretend for my children, my family, my community. But I also pretend because cancer has done enough damage, so screw you cancer.
You can’t steal my sunshine all day.
Just parts of it.
Yesterday after cello yoga i told Paula I was exhausted and she said I’ve used that word a lot.
Ask any teacher at the end of the year how they are doing and that’s the word they use.
Throw in everything else I’m doing and exhausted is an understatement.
A friend of mine recently said that living through stage four cancer treatments is like doing an Ironman race over and over, no time to catch your breath while being handed poisoned gatorade and it keeps moving the finish line to unknown locations.
Everyone is yelling different things.
“It’s all a mind game. Just THINK of finishing!”
“My aunt ran that race a few years ago and died. But you can do it.”
“Stop running. Be still and ask Jesus to save you. And if he doesn’t, that’s ok. I hear Heaven is nice!”
So I continue to read the bible and stories about Jesus giving healing to others in an instant, like the snap of Thanos’s fingers but in a good way. and doing my best to not get angry at one in the morning that He hasn’t chosen me.
Snap to it, Jesus.
I’ll also continue to get up every morning and live as long as I can, and hopefully the next scan will tell me I can get at least a three month reprieve from the cancer that has been marching throughout the body, staking claim to organs and bones and tissue.
That would be nice.
It seems as if many people I love are going through trials. Eileen and her daughter Johanna who just had another brain surgery. Nancy, who is sitting vigil beside her son Michaels bedside, who is a former fabulous firstie. He was burned eight years ago and she has been by his hospital bed ever since. Nancy has shown us all how to live and love through the unimaginable. I was a teacher in their lives for one year, but they have been all of our teachers for the past eight years.
I’m getting up and ready to put a smile on my face and teach. It’s easy when you love your job. Today we put the finishing touches on our kinderconcert. Then tonight we are going to Madison’s NJROTC awards banquet. It’s a beautiful night and everyone is excited.
This post may have come off leaving you sad or worried for me. Not my intention. It’s become my daily reality, and I’m ok. It’s good to get it out every once in a while.
Don’t sent pity or sad thoughts, because I need to raise my energy vibration.
And also pray for healing for me, and peace as I try to breathe through the next two weeks of scanxiety.
My friend shared this seaglass poem yesterday. It brought me peace. I hope it brings you all some as well.
May we all have peace and healing.
And may we all age like seaglass.
In Jesus’s name, amen.