Today was a typical Sunday, yet it wasn’t. We went to church, ate lunch at our favorite Little Rock restaurant, listened to the kids tell us all they were looking forward to in their upcoming week with school and friends, and activities.
It all seemed so normal, yet it wasn’t. Because every minute of this day, looming large in my mind, was the fact that tomorrow I would be undergoing my first chemo treatment for a very aggressive cancer that is trying to take me away from these precious Sundays.
Today was tough. I kept soaking in every normal second, knowing that the clock would continue ticking, and rather than winding down this weekend by checking backpacks and making Monday lunches and snuggling with my two favorite kids, I would instead be in the car. Again. Making the 7.5 hour trek to Houston. Again.
And this time when I get to Houston, seven very potent drugs will be injected into my body over a five hour period of time; a body who seldom has any more than an occasional Advil, and it’s mission will be to destroy the abnormal cells that are trying to destroy me, but in the process, will also destroy all the good cells that keep the rest of me healthy.
I was discouraged today.