Sten and Solveig and I get to be home together tonight and tomorrow because my dad is staying with Allistaire.
Tomorrow night at 7- 7:30pm Allistaire will get her last dose of Blue Thunder, her last of chemo for her treatment of AML. It is absolutely surreal that we are at this point. Granted, we still have about 3 weeks left in the hospital and at least a month before she’ll get her line taken out, but here we are at the last dose. I have struggled this week back, not so much because I have to live a bizarre altered life in a hospital, but because I am surrounded by constant reminders that what I want to be the end may be and it may not be as it has not been for many of the faces around me. There is Pedro’s son, that though he has completed his cancer treatment, remains in the hospital because now his liver is in trouble from the chemo. Or Connie’s daughter who has is almost 8 years old and has had two bone marrow transplants, has spent over one entire year in the hospital since her last transplant and now spends 4 hours 4 times a week on dialysis because she needs a kidney transplant – also due to the treatment she’s received for her cancer. There are numerous stories of relapse that continue to confront me. I have felt battered this week and I want to feel joy for this amazing milestone in Allistaire’s life and in all of our lives. I have struggled with guilt for having less joy than I feel I should have.
The Lord, however, has sent me encouragement this week, one in the form of the mother of the 6-year-old AML girl who is in for a transplant because of relapsing. When first I met the mom several days ago, she almost immediately said that these children are the Lord’s, they are in His hands. That was the very first time I have heard words like that from anywhere inside this world of the SCCA Unit, coming from this mom of all moms. It was humbling to hear from her and it was powerful. This morning a dear friend of mine sent me a text including the passage of scripture where Jesus tells Peter that Satan has asked for him, that he may sift him as wheat, but that Jesus has prayed for Peter that his faith would not fail. My friend used this passage of scripture to remind me that Christ Himself is interceding on my behalf, that my faith would not fail. I am again humbled and awed that such a thing is true. That Christ Himself yearns for my faith to stand strong is such an encouragement.
We are not yet done with this AML. In a few months we will merely need monthly blood tests, but the possibility for it to come back or another cancer to rise up will be ever with us. Yet, slowly, slowly, the Lord is aiding me in releasing the tension in my hands, helping the palms to open and to rest. I want to savor what has transpired. I want to steap in the visions of a new life the Lord is opening up before me. I want to know what it is to walk more and more with the Lord. To walk is a slow mode of progression. What grace it is from the Lord that this is what He has called me to. He does not expect that I arrive. He invites me to walk.
For all of you who look to the Lord for your hope and who have prayed on our behalf, I ask that if you are willing and able, would you stop what you’re doing tomorrow evening from 7 – 7:30pm Pacific Standard Time and pray for our little beloved Allistaire and ask that if it pleases God, He would use this last dose of chemo to complete the destruction of every last cancer cell in her wee precious body.