My Fabulous Friends

     In his book, The Council of Dads, Bruce Feiler talks about what values he wants his girls to learn from his friend, Max.

The loyalty of the friend who sees how far I've come instead of how far I have to go.  The dignity of the person who has devoted his entire life to serving others.  The self-respect of the man who insists on meeting his own standards instead of succumbing to those of others.

     This passage got me to thinking about the incredible friends God put in my life to bring me through some of the most trying times of cancer. There's Sis, who, even though we are related, began and continues to be one of my best friends and biggest supporters.  Cat, who guided me into missions and joined me for many adventures, slept on the floor beneath my hospital bed after my first surgery and made sure the nurses were doing what they were suppose to all night.  Several friends took turns staying with me when I wasn't able to use my arms to care for myself...Cat taught Sis (who hates the sight of blood) to care for the 4 drains that made me feel like a science experiment; Aunt S accompanied me to chemo and stayed with me cooking, cleaning and caring for me when she had challenges of her own to deal with; Em, my precious friend from across the hall and later halfway across the U.S. and back again, stayed a few nights and continues to check in on me; S, who has taken care of my income taxes since I was a senior in high school and joined in on several mission trips, sat with me through chemo and kept me talking and entertained so the nausea didn't have time to get me down; L, who I've taught with for years and watched live out her practical, unwavering faith, accompanied me to chemo, encouraged me, challenged me and cared for me; the senior girls from my small group who visited me in the hospital and made me smile...especially R when she tried the compression sleeves; G, who lived her faith as she accompanied me to chemo, prayed for and with the nurses who cared for her during her own hospital stays, and reminded me that we never cease to exist...some of us step into eternity before others.  R would call me from church on Sunday mornings when I wasn't able to be there, and I would listen to the worship service via phone. There were scores of others who came to visit me in the hospital and at home; some I read about in the journal Sis continued to keep for me so I would know what went on even when the meds put me out. I can't fail to mention the incredible ladies I teach with (Some are my former students!) that have become my second family.  They encouraged me through visits, cards and meals, always reminding me that I was loved.  Sometimes, when I was trying to "be okay" after chemo, my principal would see me in the hall and send me home, but I never worried about my job. She kept an eye on G and me to make sure we didn't overdo it, but never wanted to take our dignity and love of our jobs away.  I've heard it said that if you have one close friend in a lifetime, you should consider yourself blessed.  I consider myself blessed beyond measure!

A Passport to Intimacy

     As I thoughtfully make my way through reading The Council of Dads, I am constantly coming across things to which I say, "Wow, that's absolutely true." or "That's exactly how I felt."  In the letter from chapter 7, Bruce Feiler writes:

Cancer, I have found, is a passport to intimacy.  It's and invitation-maybe even a mandate-to enter the most vital, frightening, and sensitive human arenas.  It's a responsibility to address those issues we rarely want to discuss, but we feel enriched when we do.  In that spirtit, I hope you find occasion to ask a difficult question of someone you love, renew a long-forgotten promise you made to yourself, or spread a little magic of your own to help keep the monsters at bay.

     This brought memories of my sweet friend G, who went with me to my first chemo treatment, then took me to dinner afterward and informed me, "Enjoy it now, because it will not taste as good coming back up!"  She was correct.  Then, G stood at my bathroom door as the first wave of nausea rolled in.  "You feel like you're puking up your toes, don't you?  I'm bringing you meds!"  You see, G was speaking from experience.  She was diagnosed with a rare type of cancer six months before I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Yes, G went with me to the wig shop to help me pick out just the right wig and ended up getting another for herself. I think we tried on every wig they had and had a blast doing it!  When we pulled into the parking lot, before going in the wig shop, G said, "Can I ask you a question?"  I knodded.  She said, "Do you sit around and cry because of your diagnosis?"  "No," I responded, "do you?" "No," she said, and then paused.  She looked at me and scrunched up her eyes and asked, "Do you think we're taking this as seriously as we should?"  "The way I see it," I said, "if it doesn't affect our standing in eternity, it's not that big of a deal."  "Yeah," she said, "that's what I thought.  Glad someone's on the same page."  Even though we both knew where we would spend eternity and our relationship with Christ sustained us through our cancers, G stepped into eternity and I let God know what I thought about that. (So glad He knows I'm human and offers me grace, mercy and forgiveness when I act so human.) The thing I think I learned the best from dear G was, no matter what you go through, when you know whose you are (Christ's and Christ's alone) you live life to it's fullest...after all, He promises us abundant life. I love how The Message puts it: .."I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of." -John 10:10

Chemo May Lend Itself to Humor

  In reading The Council of Dads, I came across something that made me smile.  When talking about the side effects of chemotherapy, Bruce Feiler wrote, "The resulting list of dos and don'ts is quite precise, including no sushi, manicures, or tattoos.  Really, how do metrosexual Japanese bikers get through this?!"  Not that I ate sushi, got a manicure, or a tattoo when I was having chemo, but I did do one thing that was very not like me at all.  When I realized that I would loose all of my hair, I went to lunch with a bunch of my friends, then  we went to have my hair cut (by a friend who is a hairstylist).  I had my almost shoulder length hair cut to a little over an inch, then dyed neon pink.  (I could post a pic, but will spare you!)  It was kind of fun to do something so unexpected.  It wasn't long after that I was wearing a wig.  I have pics of Sis, M, and L wearing my wig.  After chemo, my hair came back in really dark and really curly.  I was at the post office and a lady I didn't know stopped me and said, "I love your hair.  Where did you get it done?"  I replied with a chuckle, "Oklahoma Oncology with chemo, but a perm may be easier." She actually smiled.  She introduced herself...she was a nurse! I learned that it was okay to smile and have fun, in spite of the seriousness of the situation.  

The Council of Dads

   A couple of days ago I started reading A Council of Dads by Bruce Feiler.  I've actually had the book in my possession for two weeks, but have delayed starting it because I knew it wouldn't be like any of Feiler's other books that I've already read (Walking the Bible, Abraham, and Where God was Born).  This book would be sad.  Bruce Feiler was diagnosed with cancer. (I am a cancer survivor, so I can relate to some of his thoughts and emotions.) This book tells of his journey with his wife and twin girls as they deal with the diagnosis and how he chooses men from different times in his life that can be his voice should he not be around to raise his girls.  The book is only 240 pages long.  I could read that in just a few hours. WRONG. As of now, I've only read five chapters.  Five very emotional, inspiring chapters.  When I read fiction, I read rapidly and usually can finish a book or two a week if I have a chance to read in the evenings.  This is not a quick read.  It is a book to be read carefully and thoughtfully.  I have nineteen more chapters to go.  I'm not sure how long it will take me to finish, but I look forward to the journey.