Weekly Monday News |Raw|

• Chemo tomorrow. Supposedly Dr. K called to have doses adjusted. Praying that whatever has been done, or if nothing has been done, that it is exactly what I need.
• Three days of high steroids is always a pleasure until the 4^th day where you drop, so I’m dreading Thursday.
• Xometa for my bones is every four weeks so I shouldn’t feel like I have the flu this time until next week. Yay, it’s something I so cannot wait for! (eyes rolling)
• Wait three weeks and repeat all scans, likely May5-6.

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It’s after noon on the day before my next round of chemo. It’s the most beautiful day we have had since I’ve been diagnosed in September. It is my favorite time of year. Warm to hot. I despise cold weather with everything in me, I’d much rather sweat and wear tank tops and flip flops than be unable to find enough layers to keep warm.

There is a part of me that wants to do everything humanly possible today, as tomorrow begins another three weeks of hell. I’ve done two cycles of chemo before, and usually you begin feeling good after day 10 or so. This one, on day 14, I was in California thinking now I only have a week left of feeling good, when is this going to give? It never did.

Shots of coffee and some Advil could usually do the trick for a few hours, but most of the time, I’m sucking it up and putting on a happy smile. Mostly for my family and kids, usually suffering the consequences of “overdoing it” that night when I stopped. I don’t want to go day to day, sulking in my pains and aches and overall brain fog and fatigue, and when I’m active it helps me be distracted from it all. So I do my best to be “strong and courageous.”

I felt like I’ve prayed less this month, relying on other’s prayers and not mine. I almost feel like I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t know what to pray anymore. I want to believe I’ve been healed. To have a faith so strong to not doubt other’s visions and the miracles we’ve witnessed.  To not doubt that miracles are possible. So instead of doing everything humanly possible, I’ve rested. I’ve slowed down and reminded myself that this could be my last day. Just like any one of us. What would I do on my last day? Live, love, and laugh. So that is what I plan to do.

Numbers are numbers and I do know mine were perfect a week ago and also perfect when I was diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer six years ago. Thankfully, I was reminded today that it’s not always about the numbers and sometimes feeling like poo, isn’t in the blood work. Glad I have my “I poop rainbows” shirt to always remind me of my unicorns and that poo isn’t the worst I could feel.