THE ENEMY

THE AMMUNITION

THE TRENCHES at theBattlefield

GENTLEMAN START YOUR ENGINES

Day 1

This was the first chemo treatment, the second battle. Pat is getting a total of 3 different chemos. Two in the chair in the trenches, and one he's taken home with him, carried in a shoulder pack, motor and all, set to a slow drip to be completed in 5 days. Though frightened the night before, when you're at battle with your full armor on, bravado takes control when prior battle stories are bantered around with fellow warriors. The first day, the nurses on either side of you watch for the least indication of reaction to the drug, the man across from you shares how his arms couldn't stop shaking when he had it. Or in round one how that person's whole body was on fire and he was laying on the ground convulsing. Really conforting and uplifting to the person on the hot seat facing the unknown. But there is confort in mutual misery. However professional staff ought not join in.

I find it incredibly insensitive that a nurse when Pat asked, , describes a person that had an adverse reaction to a medication , "looked like they'd been hacked up with a meat cleaver".

I asked Pat, "She didn't really use those words, did she?"

"Oh ya, I asked her and she said the man was all broken out...." he stops because I interupt him "like from a meat cleaver?"

"Ya, she said those words."

I guess when you're in the trenches day after day you become hardened to the realities and descriptions thereof. Either that or Pat is putting his particular spin on things. We were both in the Doctor's office when he described what could happen to the bones, particularly the spine if not treated. Pat swears the doctor said that a person could be walking and their back could just snap in two.

I said, " I didn't hear that, not even close." He's still convinced he did.

Warriors who have already battled one go round, must be operating with PTSD or would it be CTSD for Current Tramatic Stress Disorder? The fact that they have the courage to battle at all is beyond me. Every day I am consistently amazed at this one man's bravery. So many others are being brave too. They are modern day heroes, heroes to themselves for chinning up to the challenge, and setting an incredible example showing their strength of the human heart, mind and will.

Day 2

I had planned to take Tuesday's off from work, to go prayer group in Little Rock, and to take Pat with me. Last week we went and he enjoyed it, so we're going to keep going. This group, I call it a prayer group but it's more than that. It is Holy Spirit lead in the sense that, these are mature Christians well versed in the bible, who are totally devoted to God. Most of them minister in their own churches, have remarkable faith , and have seen movement in the spirit that produced miracles. I just happen to be a lucky duck to have been invited years ago, and have always felt close to them in my heart. It's been over a year since I'd been there, and because my boss is understanding and knows the gravity of the situation with Pat, she's agreed to let me take Tuesday's off to return to my "spiritual family".

When Pat called me this moring, I could tell he was having trouble. He'd been up all night with nausea and vomiting. The chemo was obviously effecting him neurologically, in that it was hard for him to get out a sentence. I told him stay put I'd come get him. He said no,(he mananged to stumble out a few words) he was just going to go to work and do a few things. I said, "Are you sure you're not endangering your life or anyone else's?" He was sure. When he got to my house, it was as if he had had a mild stroke or was struck with, as Pat asked, "What's that thing Michael J. Fox has?" Parkinson's? "Ya." he says not quite able to control his mouth. He let me know that it looks worse on the outside than on the inside. In other words he could think clearly enough he just couldn't get all the synapses to fire correctly. Still, he wanted to go to the prayer group.

So off to Little Rock we went. He was very uncomfortable, his back still ached ; which the doctor said should subside in a couple of weeks, his head was spinning; a result not only from the chemo but also the other chemicals to counteract side effects, including steroids. For most of the first hour of the prayer meeting, Brother Jim was sharing some things about what he thought the Lord was doing, double checking with others in the group to see if they were in agreement,while many had scriptures to back up what he was saying. Several times, Pat was offered the chance to lay down, as he was obviously uncomfortable, but he declined. Jim said among other things that if he felt it was someone's appointed time to see the Lord that he would simply pray for God's will. He told Pat that they were going to have him sit in the chair up front in the middle of the semi-circle of participants. He was not going touch Pat, he was simply going to pour blessed annointing oil on his head and then let God do the work. We all prayed and praise music was playing. Many got up and read scriptures as they were lead. The nature of this group is that if one has an issue we all need to look at that issue, whether it is pride or stubborness or anger. We're coming up on Rosh Hashanah, (Feast of the Trumpets), so repentance is in order.

It was clear as Pat rolled back in the chair, back arched, hands outstretched and tears rolling down his face, that he had a breakthrough. He certainly looked a lot better when it was all finished. This is not something Pat would normally be open to, in fact I've been trying to get him to go since last Thanksgiving. I am so grateful that he is going and that it is providing comfort for him and a renewed faith.

Day 3

This is the third day and I'm worried that I'm not doing enough for Pat. He was up again last night heaving, and looked terrible. I brought him some other nausea medicine from the pharmacy. It seems to be working and he's been sleeping most of the day. Because this is only day three and we have a long way to go, I determined I needed to get him a recliner. Last time he went through chemo and radiation and couldn't even keep the food down from the stomach tube, they discovered he has a hiatal hernia. I thought if he just had a comfortable place to sleep elevated that might help. There seemed to be an unused recliner in the back office I thought I might borrow or purchase. As it turns out, the chair has sentimental value to the owner of the business I work for, whose departed grandfather sat in for hours. But, he offered to buy one for Pat which was a very kind gesture. All set to take me at lunch break to buy this chair and have it delivered, his sister calls and says she has a practically new recliner that she's not using that he could have. Well the owner was already in chair mode and he grabs his buddy to go get the same departed grandfather's truck to pick up the chair and deliver it to Pat's house. It's times like these when you realize there are plenty of people more than willing to help and can be very generous, all they need is a little direction or something to do. Since my lunch break was now free, I drove to Pat's to check on him. He was sleeping, but managed to mumble that he didn't want a [stinking] chair.

Since the aforementioned generousity of practically strangers was already in motion, I could hardly stop it now. I said, "We'll just have them leave it in the carport."

"No," he said with eyes still closed and laying flat on his back,"it's supposed to rain all week." Okay, I thought to myself, he still has sentient coherent thoughts, good, good.

"Well, I could move the chair over there and put the recliner in it's place." I said pleadingly.

"You're not hearing me, I don't want a chair." [I would have put an exclamation point at the end of that sentence but he didn't have enough strength to exclaim.]

I said, "Think of it as a tool toward you're recovery, we can move it as soon as you're done with all this. Besides, you may end up enjoying it and thanking me for it later."

There was no response but I knew he wasn't convinced, he just didn't have the strength to argue. I'm not sure his not wanting the chair was an issue that he's working on, which is more gracious receiving, or that it is my issue of wanting to do something for his comfort and this wasn't going to help one iota, particularly if he wasn't going to sit in it out of stubborness. Last go round I tried everything I could think of : nature sounds and calming music cds, new linens, heating pad (for aches), vaporizer (for his dry mouth), scriptures and positive thoughts taped everywhere (which were promptly torn down by his mother), a juicer, (for those high-vitamin drinks) and a whole bunch of other stuff that doesn't amount to much when you're in such agony. Still I have to try.

Night 3

I lay in the next room calling out to you

Lord, Jesus, Father Son and Holy Spirit, Yaweh, Maker of Heaven Earth,

This is just the third day, he's already not able to eat

I'm not strong enough, I'm not bright enough, I'm too naive, at almost 50 I can't believe how naive I am

Make me strong I call out not expecting any answer and yet

I feel Your Presence pressing on me

I can't seem to believe it but I turn around

and there    You    Are    opening my heart

like a squeaky                      camera lense

a rusty rose                            it opens

with tears I                              breathe in the sacred DNA

    I see him                              covered in it too

      and I know,                  I hope, I pray

                            this is real.

Day 4

While Pat is getting hydrated I'm sitting at work and I should be working but I was reminded by meta's drawings on their post of Story People by Brian Andreas, and was happy to find they've moved to animation:

Well I couldn't get the widget to come up so here's the link:

http://storypeopleblog.blogspot.com/

That's okay I found something better and more pertinent. Carol Irvin who has a blog here did this artwork while on chemo:

Here's one of them:

GESTATION-Oil on canvas

GESTATION-detail

This mandala at the center of the womb was the focus of my mediation. The star of David,  the cross, and whatever else I intuited. My daugther was born beautiful, healthy and normal annnnnnnnnnnnd it was a natural child birth. I pray these paintings do as much for Pat as they did for me.