Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Oh the inexpressible comfort...

... of feeling safe with a person.

I must say that I feel like I'm surviving--nay, riding--on the wave of hope entirely built by dear friends and loved ones. Because I surely on my own could not press forward on my own accord.

Yesterday was spinal tap #2. It was fine--again, thank goodness for happy drugs and really sweet nurses. But once I got home and took into account that this is my life and that I really really really don't like the looks of my immediate future, and that I'm bald, let's just say it was a teary afternoon. I know what I'm getting myself into. And it's not pretty.

Today I had my long day of chemo, but after waiting for an hour to get my blood results, and seeing how low my white blood cell count has dropped and then waiting another hour for the oncologist to approve chemo, and then waiting an hour for the chemo to be mixed, and then six hours of chemo that makes me sick, I just don't know. At least I got steroids, which gives me an appetite for another two days.

Then I came home today and there in the mail was a lovely package. From Hope. Full of Hope: hope lives here. And hope only lives here, in my house, because of the incredibly hopeful people whose love surrounds me and fills me and gives me life right now when I can't seem to find it myself.

Like Marni, who sat with me all day long today, working away on her laptop. We rarely even talked--I mostly slept. But she was there. And because she was there I didn't lose it in my wait.

And Lauren, who brought over breakfast for dinner last night, and sat and listened to me, then bore her soul out to me and I recognized that other people have souls that have needs besides my own.

And Emily, who again sat with me yesterday all through my spinal tap experience, and fed me chicken nuggets and fries again while I lay flat on my back, and watched hours of HGTV with me in that tiny Intravenous Radiology room.

And Yvette, dear Yvette, who did my Sunday extremely scary laundry and the bathroom rug. Bless her heart. Heaps of blessings. And on that note, Krysta, who pulled her car over some weeks ago to let me throw up on the side of the road.

And Julie, Megan, and Rachel, who braved their own bouts of pneumonia to come over and dance outside my front door one frigid night (no germs inside!), just so I knew they can still shake their bodies. (and they can. They can.)

And Emily, who brought me bravery, and Stace and Jana and Amy who email me the most encouraging emails and don't expect replies, and Laurel who doubles her prayers, and all those who call and comment and fill me. I don't even know who they all are, but I know they are there, because this is really beyond and outside of me.

And those out-of-town visitors--Deb and Janiece and Jessica and my mom and my grandmother and my cousin and my sisters.

thank you.


Leslie Green said...

Aww, sweetie! We're glad you are finding comfort in friends, comments, cards, etc. We were just in Provo and we went to see the Carl Bloch exhibit. The mantelpiece that touched us the most was the one where the angel was comforting Christ. It seems that you have that image in your home! It's so powerful, isn't it? When I look at that, I know that He knows everything that we have felt and that there IS comfort and that there ARE angels. It sounds like you have many of them. May God keep blessing you and may some of those blessings involve feeling better soon!! :D

Andrew & Vanessa and kids said...

We just love you, Jenny, and it's so comforting to know that you are being taken care of by some of the BEST!
Oh, how we miss the dear Crystal City ward friends.
Know that I think of you EVERY DAY and admire you for doing HARD THINGS!
Love, Vanessa

amy smart said...

You're welcome dear friend. It's not much and it's all a pleasure.