Oh, let the side-effects begin.

Dear Mr. Hodgkin's,

I'm grateful to say a week has gone by since chemo invaded my body.  Is it going by fast for you, sir?  I cannot say it has for me (you and that brash girl seem to be having quite the ball playing pranks on my little body), but am relieved 1 treatment is done, 5 more to go.  Concerning chemo... can I be candid with you, Mr. Hodgkin's?  I know it is unwise to confide in you, my enemy, especially when it concerns my doctor's tactical plans.... but I can't help myself.  You know what is a bit unnerving about her?  My oncologist has admitted to me just how secret of a weapon chemo actually is... even to him.  You see, still to this day, no one knows how chemo actually does the job.  Oh, they know she kills cancer, but they haven't pinpointed the process she takes to get there.  So the only plan is to pump the chemo into me, watch how my body reacts, and then respond to the side-effects once they happen.  Very comforting, don't you agree?  I refuse to call this an experiment... but it does sound an awful lot like trial and error.  Oh, modern-day medicine.  How advanced you seem to be... yet not really. 

How did my body fare, you ask?  You won't be privy to every detail, but there was one note-worthy event to write home about.  As Thursday evening rolled around, something I can only describe as a small fire began to ignite in my mouth.  The flame was small at first as I only started to wince when I tried to drink water or eat chocolate pudding (you know what? I had ice cream too).  But the burn grew more intense with each passing hour, and by the time I was ready to fall asleep, something as simple and natural as swallowing my own saliva would cause me to scream.  I would finally doze off when my mouth went dry only to wake in tears 15 minutes later as soon as the saliva would naturally rebuild.  I will spare you any more details, but let's just say, it was a painful night, my friend. 

I called the doctor immediately the next morning and they invited me in for a follow-up. Well, how kind.  As I sat waiting in a patient room, I held my face in my hands as tears streamed down my fingers and soaked into the cuffs of my sweatshirt.  The nurse practitioner walked in, and it took everything in me to lift my dazed eyes towards her, my breathing heavy.  Her cheerful smile immediately plunged and she said, "Hunny, we are going to kill this thing and I promise you are going to be okay."  Since I could barely talk, she asked many yes/no questions, and we sadly discovered something in the process... my nurse had given me the chemo medication forgetting to instruct me to chomp on ice (too caught up in chatting. Girls will be girls).  Seems so minute, right?  Here's the thing: the coolness of the ice diverts the meds from my mouth.  However, being totally exposed, the meds spread full-blown into my mouth and attacked my central nerves in the process.  She reassured me this will never again be the case; that I should never experience such pain with chemo.  Until then, vicodin would carry me through the weekend.  Relief + Vicodin = I embrace drugs.

And then, the icing on the cake, she looked at me and said, "When I first walked in and saw the red hair, the freckles, and the fair skin, I thought, 'Oh, no!'"  When I gave her a confused, somewhat offended look, she said, "Your type is 10x more sensitive in general, but especially to anything we doctors give you."  Aha!  This explains so much of my life. (Just how sensitive is my skin?  I remember, before volleyball tournaments, my friend would simply scratch my number on my bicep and my skin would react so strongly that the redness served as a tattoo for the rest of the game.  Obvious case and point: If you've got it, flaunt it.)  "You're also young, which means your arteries are fresh and things are just that much more painful than when you're old."  Hmm, thank you for that... any other strikes against me?

Mr. Hodgkin's, even in all of this, I have no cause to worry.  You have yet to understand the ways of my God.  I alluded to this last correspondence, but let me see if I can share a bit more.  See, all throughout this beautiful book called the Bible, my God takes those that have the cards stacked against them and displays His awesome power through their singular faith in Him.  Take my hero, David, and his well-known story.  There were brave, well-trained soldiers that were afraid to fight an opposing giant named Goliath.  David was this young, shepherd boy that volunteered to fight because he had faith, not in himself mind you, but in the strength and faithfulness of our God.  Do you not know the end of the story?  He defeated Goliath with a mere slingshot and a stone.  Too cliche for you? 

Okay, how about Moses? He was chosen to command Pharaoh to free God's people after 400 years of slavery under the Egyptian's reign.  Sir, he was an old man that had a speech-impediment, and furthermore, he lacked self-confidence to do the job.  You can only imagine why the Pharaoh refused him... he didn't have many influencing strengths.  Do you see who influences though? God worked through all of his insufficiencies, and in the end, Moses led His people right out of Egypt.  So, yes.  There may be many strikes against me, but when have we ever needed our ducks in a row for God to move?  My God, who is greater and stronger than any other, is always at work and has never needed circumstances to tip in His people's favor before He leads them into victory.  So freckles and all, my God is not hindered nor encumbered.  For let His power be shown all the more, mister.

All in all, today is the first day since chemo I have felt back to normal- full of energy and joy.  I've pranced around the office, created a choreographed dance to Justin Bieber's "One Time," made plans to go snow tubing tomorrow, and plan on staying up to the wee hours of the morn reading and drawing.... all in a day's work.  It's good to know I'm still here, spirited and somewhat out of control.  Hmm, yes, I will embrace every second of this painless day.  Praise Jesus again and again, sir.

Yours Truly,
Heid