Still Alive...Thank You.

My spot on the couch has been hijacked this evening.

After my doom and gloom blog update from yesterday, I figure I better let you guys know that I am, in fact, NOT dying. Or dead. It kind of, sort of felt like it was looming on the horizon yesterday. And today was touch and go for most of the day as one of the more uncomfortable of the chemo side effects finally set in. After healthy large doses of Senna and Miralax and more time spent in the bathroom than I care to explain today (this is a blog about chemotherapy and breast cancer, so you kind of signed up for a little TMI when you logged on), I am feeling much, MUCH better this evening.

For the first time in a week, I ate a real dinner. Pasta. With vegetables. And chicken. And cheese. I am actually sitting up in a chair typing this and not lounging on the couch alternating between coordinated shades of pasty and green. And so far, I have not had a single inkling to run like a pit bull on fire toward the toilet.

I will take it.

My goal for the evening is to stay up past 8pm. I am finding that by 7:30 in the evening, I have been so very exhausted that I am heading to bed. Even with Tylenol PM to help me sleep, I am waking up at 3:30 in the morning wide awake with a healthy 8 hours under my belt. So tonight, I am aiming for a wild and crazy 9pm bedtime. Wish me luck.

I wanted to take a minute to say thank you to everyone who has reached out to us with prayers. With kind words. With meals. With donations. With gift cards. With raffle ticket purchases. With offers to cook chickens. And smoke ribs. With thoughtful gifts. With plants, even (that I promise to try my very best not to kill)! It is really pretty humbling. I can't really say that I have often been humbled in my lifetime (maybe that's a bad thing), but I have truly been taken aback by all the people who have stepped up--out of the blue, out of thin air--to ask how they can help us. From coworkers to my kids' friends' parents to college friends to family I haven't spoken to in entirely too long to men and women I went to church with as a know-it-all kid in Kentucky in the 1980s. It is overwhelming and I really have a hard time explaining how appreciative we are.

Does it sound incredibly--even childishly--melodramatic and theatrical to say that my faith in humanity has been restored by getting cancer? I know it does, but there is some tiny bit of truth to that. It's easy to see people as "us" and "them" until something like this happens. Until your world is upended. Until nothing else matters. Then suddenly, all of the "thems" are stepping up. Wanting to help. Wanting to ease your pain. Wanting to make your life a little bit better. A little bit happier. And then you can't help but think to yourself, "Wow. Maybe I was the one with the problem all along..."

Anyway, I am blabbering on now. (This sitting upright stuff is apparently a pretty damn good high.) My whole point is that I am feeling incredibly blessed by all of your unexpected and generous outpourings of love. I don't say thank you often enough, but...

Thank you.