Written Jun 26, 2012 7:55am by Renee Albracht
I had a fantastic day yesterday. I returned to a full day's work and felt incredible, full of energy and genuinely happy, better than I have felt in many months.
However, as I lay in bed last night, tired, but unable to sleep, anxiety filled me, tensing my muscles and making relaxation next to impossible. "Tomorrow," I thought as I lay in the dark with eyes wide open, "will be the last day I get to wash my own hair. It will be the last day I will have my own hair."
Then I began to think about Friday. I know drawing blood doesn't hurt. The chemo doesn't hurt. If they need to give me blood, that won't hurt. I wasn't even too concerned with the days following, feeling sick and tired. I just don't want to be pricked again. Yet, that doesn't even hurt when they go through the port.
However, I still haven't gotten over the hospital. While there, I was afraid to leave. Now that I'm out, I'm afraid to go back. Even though my treatment will be in the doctor's office and not the hospital, I am still anxious. I was poked and prodded so much while in the hospital that I'm extremely reluctant to go through it again. I just want to be left alone.
I'm here at work again today, feeling great physically. What a busy day it will be--meetings and sessions with parents of incoming freshman. I have to hold it all together and I know I can. But, I'm a mess internally.
None of it--the hair loss or the treatment--is that big of a deal. So, why am I, still today, so anxious? Why am I on the edge emotionally? Ready to cry at any moment or fight if even slightly provoked?
What I said before is still true. I am not afraid of death. I am not afraid of life. I don't even care where this disease takes me as long as God is with me.
With all that said, I am still scared. Why is losing my hair and getting poked and prodded again such a big deal? Because it's real now. I can finally say I have cancer, but I have felt so good the past few days. It has been easy to forget just how sick I am. It was easy to forget that anything was wrong.
I may not fear the big things, but what about my quality of life while I am still alive--whether I have one more minute or seventy more years?
I sat outside this morning before work trying to enjoy the cool air, our "cold" front. I wanted to pray, but all I could say was, "I need You today." I suppose that was enough.
When I got to work, the first thing I did was pre-apologize to a friend when he asked me how I was feeling. "I'm in a mood so I apologize in advance if I snap at you today."
"You are already forgiven," he tells me. (I now here my Father's echo in my friend's words.)
Now, I sit here and think about Dr. Parrott's lesson from Sunday: I am only human. I cannot control being scared and just a bit angry. But, what will I do with those emotions? Will I choose sin or choose God?
Right now, I choose God. Please join me in prayer today and through the rest of the week that I continue to do so and find peace through these ordeals
However, as I lay in bed last night, tired, but unable to sleep, anxiety filled me, tensing my muscles and making relaxation next to impossible. "Tomorrow," I thought as I lay in the dark with eyes wide open, "will be the last day I get to wash my own hair. It will be the last day I will have my own hair."
Then I began to think about Friday. I know drawing blood doesn't hurt. The chemo doesn't hurt. If they need to give me blood, that won't hurt. I wasn't even too concerned with the days following, feeling sick and tired. I just don't want to be pricked again. Yet, that doesn't even hurt when they go through the port.
However, I still haven't gotten over the hospital. While there, I was afraid to leave. Now that I'm out, I'm afraid to go back. Even though my treatment will be in the doctor's office and not the hospital, I am still anxious. I was poked and prodded so much while in the hospital that I'm extremely reluctant to go through it again. I just want to be left alone.
I'm here at work again today, feeling great physically. What a busy day it will be--meetings and sessions with parents of incoming freshman. I have to hold it all together and I know I can. But, I'm a mess internally.
None of it--the hair loss or the treatment--is that big of a deal. So, why am I, still today, so anxious? Why am I on the edge emotionally? Ready to cry at any moment or fight if even slightly provoked?
What I said before is still true. I am not afraid of death. I am not afraid of life. I don't even care where this disease takes me as long as God is with me.
With all that said, I am still scared. Why is losing my hair and getting poked and prodded again such a big deal? Because it's real now. I can finally say I have cancer, but I have felt so good the past few days. It has been easy to forget just how sick I am. It was easy to forget that anything was wrong.
I may not fear the big things, but what about my quality of life while I am still alive--whether I have one more minute or seventy more years?
I sat outside this morning before work trying to enjoy the cool air, our "cold" front. I wanted to pray, but all I could say was, "I need You today." I suppose that was enough.
When I got to work, the first thing I did was pre-apologize to a friend when he asked me how I was feeling. "I'm in a mood so I apologize in advance if I snap at you today."
"You are already forgiven," he tells me. (I now here my Father's echo in my friend's words.)
Now, I sit here and think about Dr. Parrott's lesson from Sunday: I am only human. I cannot control being scared and just a bit angry. But, what will I do with those emotions? Will I choose sin or choose God?
Right now, I choose God. Please join me in prayer today and through the rest of the week that I continue to do so and find peace through these ordeals
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