Your Smiles Make Me Smile

If you really want to get the most out of my blog, it's best to start with the first post written in July to the present since some blogs refer back to earlier posts; but any order is just fine... Thanks for visiting! Now scroll on down to the good news! ~Renae~

Tuesday, May 1, 2012


Its hard to believe that just three weeks ago I was hooked up to two IV's, simultaneously being pumped with someone else's blood (thank you blood donors) and antibiotics while severely ill in the hospital, and yet today I spent two hours singing and getting my cardio on while mowing my lawn.  Can you say push lawnmower?

Okay, the fact that I only finished half the lawn and my lawn is not that big has nothing to do with my physical health....that's more of an OCD lawn issue I am working on which perhaps I will one day share.  As for now, I am much more comfortable sharing pictures of my bald head then telling you about my personal hangups. 

So while I was mowing the lawn (which is very therapeutic fyi) I had a lot of time to think how one moment, that moment when we feel we will never make it through to see the light at the end of the tunnel, when it all seems so overwhelming that we actually consider the weight of the burden to be more than we can bear, suddenly turns into another moment...that moment when we are laughing again.  Yes laughing again, and everything is right with the world.  Only three weeks ago I was close to ready to give up, and today I am back and ready to conquer.  Funny how life is.

Pain, grief, disbelief, illness, fear, it's there and it's real and it serves to remind me of how vulnerable I really am, even when I fantasize that I'm Wonder Woman.  I am not.  I will be honest with you.  Prior to going to emergency after my third round of chemo, I tried to negotiate in the middle of the night with the on-call physician, while burning up with a neutropenic fever.  I begged him to let me stay home, hoping I would feel better in the morning, knowing I could have died during the night.  Not my proudest moment, but that's how much I didn't want to go to the hospital yet again and have blood taken and IV's in my arm, and six inch Qtips stuck up my nose for whatever samples they were going to take.  I even did the unthinkable.  I took Tylenol with Codeine and a few Ibuprofin to try to drop the fever so I could convince myself that I was fine, but a dropped fever doesn't elevate the white blood cell count, it only tricks your body into thinking you are fine.  I wasn't.  Finally, I came to my senses knowing my options were less than none, but then again on the way to the emergency room I cried like a two year old having a tantrum while Richard stayed stoic driving as quickly yet as safely as he could get me there.  I bellowed "I don't waaaaaannnnnnttttt to go!!!! I caannnn't do this!" as he drove silently and patiently holding my hand, allowing me my breakdown.  When we got to emergency, it was worse then I thought, and yes, I had visions of just leaving -- walking out of the hospital because I couldn't take one more needle, and to top it off I was dry heaving.  I was so ill, they admitted me (I begged them not to) to the cancer ward of the hospital on EASTER WEEKEND, quarantined me like a rabid dog and stuck a big hot pink sign on the door of my room to warn anyone that entered not to bring in germs. 

I am not sharing this to tell you how miserable I was (but if you want to feel sorry for me ever, this would be the time), but to share with you the amazing thing about changes.  It ebbs and it flows and just when we think we can't take another minute of suffering, the sun comes out again...and again....and again....Sometimes, just knowing that, is enough to keep me going. 

My prayer to God and the Universe is that during your darkest moments you will hold on to that thought because one of the greatest beauties of life is that it changes.  It shakes us to the core and then, maybe not today, or tomorrow, or as quickly as we'd like, but just as sure as the flowers will bloom again and the baby birds will sing, eventually the clouds will pass and we will breathe again. Yes, we will.

I have proof of that, if only in my half-mowed lawn...

Keep the faith, always.

Sweet Dreams and Always GOOD Dreams,


Susie said...

Your words and your story mean a lot to me. Thank you for the courage to share.

renaedarlene said...

Your so welcome Susie. Thank you for your comment. I chose to live this journey out loud and in that, I have received an outpouring of wonderful support from so many people. Thank you. ~Renae~