We Can All Agree that Caregiving is Tough

Welcome to Caregiver Connections

caregiver connectionsMaybe You’re a Caregiver and You Didn’t Even Realize it!

We all might not agree on politics, religion, or even who should have won the Super Bowl. I think we can all agree that caregiving can wear a person down. But first of all, what defines a caregiver? Literally, ‘caregiver’ is someone who gives care to another person. I would argue that a caregiver is someone who gives that care for free, usually to a family member.

A caregiver takes on the extra responsibility for a family member who can no longer take care of herself at her usual capacity. Even if the person being cared for can do some things by herself, whoever takes up the slack turns into a caregiver.

Parents with a special needs child act as caregivers, too. Their responsibilites go above and beyond the usual rounds of what most parents do.  In addition to all that parenting entails, they have to learn new strategies for dealing with a child’s fragile health or emotional state. They have to deal with the glares from others who don’t understand that their child (who looks normal) might have special needs.

We Can All Agree that Caregiving Takes a Toll

Whether we care for an ill husband, a parent with Alzheimer’s or dimentia, or a special needs child, we can all agree that caregiving takes a toll. One of the worst parts of caregiving involves the isolation. We wonder if anyone else has ever experienced the guilt, the loneliness, the frustration, the anger, and the exhaustion that we experience. Yes! They do!

That’s what Caregiver Connection is all about! The theme for the first Wednesday of each month is caregiver stories. If you’re a caregiver, or a caregiver has touched your life in a special way, this week is for you. Link up your honest stories of what caregiving looks like for you, from the trenches.

Join #CaregiverConnections and find community with other #caregivers! #caregiver #community #mentalhealth #cancer #TBI Click To Tweet

This Week’s Spotlight

This week’s featured story comes from Dana Butler, who’s beautiful, honest post about the toll caring for their two special needs kids caught my eye last week. Click on over to Dana’s space and find out what it’s like to parent special-needs children. Her story will amaze you and move you as you see God working in her life.
Guidelines

In order to make this link up user friendly AND pertinent to caregivers and their needs, please make sure that what you link up follows the guidelines for the week. This week is for CAREGIVER Stories.  Share a link to your story of what it’s like to care for someone else (or have someone else care for you). If you aren’t sure if your link is appropriate, feel free to email me at anita at blessedbutstressed dot com and ask!

We will delete links that aren’t on topic in order to keep the link up a true community resource. We WILL contact you first and let you know that we will remove your link.

For non-caregiving related links, we invite you to participate in the Inspire Me Monday link up over at www.anitaojeda.com.

By linking up, you agree to receive weekly reminders about the link up.

Do look for the caregiver boards on Pinterest.

Do link up more than one post!

Join our Facebook community, too! It’s easy, just click that button over on the right! —->

The whole point of the link up is to make connections and form community with other caregivers, so don’t forget to visit the person who linked up before you as well as the person who linked up after you.

If you read something that moves you, share! Tweet, pin, share on Facebook, whatever it takes to draw others into to our caregiver stories. All too often, caregivers suffer in silence because they don’t think anyone cares to hear their voice. We care! If you’d like to join the Caregiver Connections Pinterest Board (so you can pin your caregiver-related posts), just drop me an email at anita at blessedbutstressed dot com.

 Loading InLinkz ...

The End of an Era and Making New Connections

endingAn Ending…

For over four years Blessed (but Stressed) has hosted the Inspire Me Monday linkup—sometimes other bloggers have acted as co-hosts, sometimes not. We’ve loved making connections with all of you! For the past two years, writers and readers have found community over at www.anitaojeda.com, as well.

I started the other blog in 2016 in order to find an outlet for my creative writing (Carol has a blog in the works, too). We’ve decided that we want to dedicate this space to caregiving and caregivers. Therefore, it makes more sense to stop hosting Inspire Me Monday here, and host it exclusively over at www.anitaojeda.com (and eventually on Carol’s blog, as well).

Thank you to all of you who have faithfully linked up over the years. If you’ve never checked out my other space, that’s where you’ll find the Inspire Me Monday linkup starting on February 4. This will be the last week that we host Inspire Me Monday here at Blessed (but Stressed).

…and a New Beginning With New Connections

connections

We’re excited to announce that we’ll start hosting a new link up, exclusively for posts by and for caregivers called ‘Caregiver Connections.’

The feelings of isolation that accompany the caregiving journey can overwhelm us at times. We’d like to provide a place for caregivers to find and read others’ stories. Or, if you’ve discovered a great resource or way to do something that other caregivers might benefit from, we want Caregiver Connections to be the go-to place for finding that information.

In order to make it easier for those visiting to find the kinds of posts they’re looking for, we’ll have a theme for each week.

First Wednesday of the month: Caregiver Stories

Share your personal stories of how caregiving has changed you or helped you to grow.

Second Wednesday of the month: Resources for Caregivers

Share your tips and hacks for making life easier as a caregiver. This can be healthy Instant Pot recipies, organizational hacks, or advice on handling insurance companies or other family members.

Third Wednesday of the month: Caregiver Self-Care

Share your tips and hacks for taking care of yourself as a caregiver. It’s not easy, and we need all of the help we can get!

Fourth Wednesday of the month: Caregiver Encouragement

You’ve been there, you’ve done that! One of the worst parts of caregiving is thinking that you’re alone. How can you encourage fellow caregivers?

Weekly Featured Blogs

Each week we’ll feature a post by a fellow caregiver. Sign up here to receive notifications of the link up each week. By sharing our stories and our experiences, we can make the lives of other caregivers just a little easier.

Sign up to get weekly reminders!

Look for an email each Wednesday to remind you to link up your caregiver-related blog posts.

Each week we'll have a theme as well as feature one blog post from the previous week that best embodies the previous week's theme.

We won't send you spam. Unsubscribe at any time. Powered by ConvertKit

So, please join us next Wednesday, February 7, for the first ever Caregiver Connection link up!


 Loading InLinkz ...

Crutches for a Caregiver

Use those crutches - they help us keep moving!

Caregivers have to survive along with the patient.

Pudding.  Dora the Explorer.  Juice. Bambi.  Burritos.  Blankets.  Chemo backpacks. The Lion King. Ice Cream.

Crutches for a caregiver.

Crutches I thought I would never use!  But I used them for sure.  I used them often. Did that make me a bad mother?

I had always been a careful mother.  I oversaw every aspect of my children’s food, activities – everything.  As an educator I was careful with their screen-time, diet and bed-time.  I invited children to our yard to play, because I could keep my eye on my own kids better that way. I didn’t succumb to the temptation of using TV or screen-time as a baby-sitter.  Ice cream was rare.  Juice and pudding were treats.  Dora the Explorer?  I’d never seen it. We didn’t watch TV.

Having a four-year-old too weak to play, too lethargic to care, and too sick to eat spun my mothering ideals into a tail-spin.

Andrew’s medication tasted awful.  He was four so I ground it up and we got it down with pudding.  He was tired, but looked forward to Dora the Explorer during blood-draws.  Playing was out of the question, but a good dose of Bambi occupied him long enough for me to actually take a shower.

Burritos was the one food that trumped all other options and let’s be honest, I could hide one of his medications in that burrito.  I’d read that little ones drinking juice was a bad idea for their teeth, but water tasted pretty bad to my little guy and we worked to keep him hydrated.

Andrew had more blankets than anyone I’ve ever met in my life.  We used every single one.  He was extra cold, threw up often and we traveled to hospitals and clinics a lot – blankets made those trips bearable.  The chemo-backpack was started by my friend and added to often by other friends.  Toys abounded.  They had to be sanitized and switched out often in order to be of use.

Lion King was the funny movie Andrew wanted when he felt well.  And ice cream?  That was for those days when the medication was overwhelming and too much and the tears and the refusals had to be felt.  Ice cream was the reward for that nasty medicine going down all three times that day.  Ugh.

Where did my careful mothering go?  And did I do the right thing?

My mothering-style?  It went to survival mode.  Us mothers?  We have to survive.  Our most important job is to help our kids and our families survive.  Did I do the right thing to change the format of our lives?  Absolutely and I’d do it again in a second.

There is no “perfect” in caregiving.  There is no absolute “right” in mothering.  I hate all the stuff I see online – – the judgmental everyone-should-tolerate-each-other-as-long-as-they-do-it-my-way stuff that’s out there on social media.

Caregivers have to operate the best they can with what they are handed each day.  We have to use the tools at hand.  The patient needs to be comfortable, loved and taken care of the best way we know how.  But don’t forget this important part.

Caregivers have to survive this medical emergency too – it’s not just about the patient.

So do what you need to do to survive.  Use any and all crutches you can find,

And I’m just going to say this – my biggest, best and most stable crutch was not actually a crutch, but a foundation:

Jesus.  He’s the One that will get us through the difficulties.  I know I’m biased – but He is why I can sit here, on a Sunday, while my recovered Leukemia patient is outside shooting hoops!

Praise God for crutches.

A caregiver should use all the crutches available - and do NOT feel guilty! #caregiver #caregiving Click To Tweet

 


 Loading InLinkz ...

Caregiver Loneliness Can Delay YOUR Recovery

Five Tips for Avoiding Isolation

loneliness

Take a Peek at Caregiver Loneliness

ICU minutes stretch like bubblegum—at some point, I know they’ll burst and slap more messiness into my life. I wait, lonely in the busiest place on the planet, for the nurses to allow me back into Pedro’s room. The tubes cascade out of his mouth, bringing life and hope that I won’t have to face the future alone.

***

Hospital minutes twang with anxiety—Pedro’s not in ICU any more, but nurses rush in on quiet feet each time I press the call button. Days have passed since he knew that I sit next to him, counting each breath and movement—hoping that this crisis will pass. The beeps of his vitals accompany my prayers. The loneliness presses in—squeezing hope into the corners.

 ***

I am on a highway, looking towards a bright future, yet time whizzes past me in a blur. I tend to Pedro’s needs during my lunch break, than hurry back to work. The four of us (Pedro, Laura, Sarah and I) relish his recovery, and long for time to regain its measured pace. Normalcy dances within reach, yet I feel lonelier than when minutes stretched like bubblegum.

The bills, the burdens, the new normal, all build an invisible wall between me and everyone else. No one understands the sheer panic a sneeze or a sniffle produces in my mind. No one understands the confusion of no longer living in panic mode.

I blindly hang on to the one constant from my journey. I know I have never been alone. Never been forsaken. But MY road to recovery is a lonely one. #caregiver Click To Tweet

Lessons Learned in Retrospect

Fifteen years have passed since Pedro’s stem-cell transplant saved his life. For him, recovery lasted about a year. For me? A lot longer. Cancer and other catastropic illnesses can act as blinders for the caregiver. We hyper-focus on the tasks at hand: taking care of our loved one, finding answers, and willing them to live. We forget that the world continues while we fight an isolated battle.

In retrospect, I would have done things a bit differently.

1). I would have found a support group for cancer caregivers.

I don’t know if they didn’t exist at the time of Pedro’s illness, or if I just didn’t see signs offering help. A few years after his recovery, I went to the same hospital and noticed posters all over the place for caregiver support groups. It would have been helpful to know that I wasn’t the only one having all the feelings that accompany caregiving.loneliness

2). I would have taken more interest in my friends.

Pedro’s illness took place before the advent Facebook and Instagram, so keeping in touch with friends meant phoning or writing letters. Nowadays, constant communication takes very little time and effort. You can take an interest in other people’s lives while you wait.

3) Make an effort to keep in touch with friends and family on a regular basis about non-caregiver related things.

This seems counterintuitive, because your world seems consumed by caregiving matters. But if you come out of the bubble, you’ll find connection with others that will help you when the crisis has ended and you return to normal life.

4) Don’t be afraid to ask for prayer for yourself.

I had no problems asking for prayer for Pedro and his specific needs. I had no idea that I could ask for prayer for myself. You can ask to join our Blessed (but Stressed) group of caregivers on Facebook. We pray for each other every Wednesday.

5) Acknowledge that YOU need time to recover, too.

Hopefully, if you take care of yourself during your journey (I didn’t), you’ll find that recovery takes less time. By staying connected with friends and family about non-caregiver related things, you won’t feel so isolated when your caregiving duties have ended. You’ll find it easier to resume activities that feel ‘normal’ to you, thus decreasing your sense of isolation and loneliness.

Know a Caregiver?

Do you know a caregiver?  Have you wondered if he or she might might suffer from caregiver loneliness?  What can YOU do to help? Don’t feel rejected if your caregiver friend seems distant and unresponsive. Keep reaching out! Caregivers suffer from loneliness but often don’t know how to express their feelings. They need YOU!


 Loading InLinkz ...

Join the Club – Three Easy Tips for Caregivers

Carol

No matter how hard it feels to do – look for the perks of belonging to the caregiver club

It’s not an elite club.
It’s not a desirable club.
It comes with a very high membership fee.
No one ever requests to join.
But once you’ve been inducted into the club of Cancer Caregivers, you might as well participate fully. Even though it takes awhile for your head to stop spinning from the shock of the diagnosis, it’s important to jump into the caregiving role. No matter how busy you are at your full-time job of caregiving, plus your regular employment, plus your responsibilities as parent, spouse, outside of the caregiving role, our advice to you is Join the Club!

 

 

1. Make it a priority to participate.

Children’s hospital facilities often organize parent suppers or get-togethers to form a sort of parent-support group. Sometimes I felt that I did not have time to go, but when I went it was so nice to be with a group of people that were sharing my journey…who knew what questions NOT to ask, who knew what subjects were OK (it’s only in this group that it’s OK to talk about bodily fluids), and who might have more experience than you do at what you’re doing.

2. Take advantage of offers.

Sometimes, charitable groups offer benefits to cancer patients and their families. Candlelighters, a helper group for families of children with cancer, offered our family the chance to take a jet-boat river cruise for a day outing with other children-with-cancer families. They had offered other things over the years of fighting cancer, but often we could not participate because of travel distances or work commitments. This day on the river was a joy – and it was so touching to watch other cancer-kids in different phases of treatment, living their lives as “normal as possible” under the circumstances…choosing to live with joy for a day. It was good for my boy to recognize that other kids were in different stages, some bald, some healed, some still struggling—he felt like he was in a group where he belonged!

3. Be brave and share.

I remember standing outside the entryway to the children’s cancer ward, staring out the window, feeling very alone and overwhelmed. A lady stood down a ways and after awhile I noticed she had the same blank stare out at the beautiful scenery that I had. I felt a little shy, but she looked like she was hurting. I tried the line, “You come here often?” She smiled and told me of her son, back for his umpteenth hospital visit in a long fight with brain tumors. I told her of my son’s fourth hospital visit in a new fight against leukemia. We didn’t really offer any advice, we didn’t hug or make a lifetime friendship, but for just a moment, our burden was lightened because we were not walking alone.
What ‘club benefits’ have you found most helpful?


 Loading InLinkz ...

Why You Should Forget About New Year’s Resolutions

Brainstorm Solutions, Instead

ResolutionKiss Resolutions Goodbye!

For years I made New Year’s resolutions: lose weight, start an exercise program, have better health, give up chocolate, and myriad other impossible proclamations.  While my husband recovered from his stem-cell transplant, I spent all of my spare time in bed. I felt grumpy and depressed and weighed fifty pounds more than I should. All of my resolutions clustered around me, tying me to my perpetual inaction.

And then I learned a secret.  ‘Resolution’ simply means to decide on a course of action—there’s nothing to ensure that I stay on course.  Lofty plans sound great on December 31, but without action they fall by the wayside quicker than couch potatoes running a 5K.

‘Solution,’ on the other hand, means ‘the act of solving a problem’ or ‘the state of being solved.’  Action equals motion.  This year, decide on solutions to problems and ditch the resolutions. Start with a list of things you’d like to accomplish, and then brainstorm ways to make those things happen. Don’t focus on your goal, though. You might end up feeling overwhelmed.

Focus on the little changes that you can make each day that add up to big changes over a long period of time. Those daily choices add up. Give yourself grace during your journey to forming new habits.

Resolutions

 

Changes Don’t Happen Overnight

Since saying ‘Adios!’ to New Year’s Resolutions, and acting to solve problems I saw in my life, I’ve lost those fifty extra pounds, lowered my cholesterol and learned that chocolate isn’t the enemy. I have more solutions to work out in my life, but I’m not the grumpy, frumpy middle-aged lump I used to be.

You can find out more about learning to really nurture yourself over at my other blog. On my journey, I’ve discovered lots of solutions to adding extra movement into my life and finding healthier ways to deal with stress.

Whether you’re a busy mom or a stressed-out caregiver, remember to give yourself grace for your journey. Change takes time (more than the month of January) in order to remain permanent. If you’d like to find a grace-filled support group, check out Faithful Finish Lines and their two-week FREE Grace Camp (affiliate link).

True change takes time! Give yourself grace, and don't try to accomplish everything in the just one month! #newyearsresolutions #solutions Click To Tweet

You can also download the printable graphic right here:





 

 Loading InLinkz ...

It’s Not About the Wise Men – It’s Just a Simple Gift

- from shared wisdom gleaned from experience

It’s not about being wise – it’s just about sharing the journey

It’s not about the wise men, this Christmas.

Our gift to you comes from two ladies who consider ourselves anything but wise.  In fact, our story started with the words, “Don’t you wish you would have known…?” and continued with a resounding, “Oh, wow…yes!  I wish someone could have prepared me for…!”

Because there is no way to know what you’re going to need when a loved one’s life hangs in the balance.  There is no preparation you can do for administering dangerous chemicals to your child.  No studying prepares you to learn to let go of your loved one while at the same time fighting harder than your own life to help them with theirs (and that phrase makes sense if you’ve been there).  Nothing takes your breath away like hearing those diagnostic words declaring the battle plans you didn’t even know existed.

When your loved one is diagnosed, your life changes as much as theirs.

But the treatments are for them.  The medicine is for the patient.  The financial help is for the recipient.  Support staff, books, hospital rooms – everything is geared toward helping your loved one survive that catastrophic, life-changing illness.  Just like you want it to be!

Anita and I have said to each other, repeatedly, there isn’t much we’d change, looking back over the treatment for her husband and my boy.  We’d still fight the battles, maintain the home, fight for the rights of our patient.

There’s not much we’d change in the care we gave…

But boy could we have treated ourselves better in the process!

Maybe we could have understood, a little better, what the nurses said when they sympathetically clucked, “Now, you must take care of yourself too.”  What if we had accepted more offers of help?  Maybe we should not have buried our worries, fought the insurance companies all by ourselves or eaten whatever we could grab in between treatments?

What if we could have known?

Our gift, we pray, is that others can learn what our life-of-care-giving has taught us.  One step at a time.

Our gift, this Christmas, is a free book for you.  It’s not gold, frankincense or myrrh from the Wise Men – it’s just some stories and advice from two ladies who’ve been there.

Subcribe below or beside (depending upon your browser) and receive a free book pictured on this page!

Merry Christmas!

Our gift, this #Christmas, is a free book for you. It's not gold, frankincense or myrrh from the Wise Men - it's just some stories and advice from two #caregivers who've been there. Click To Tweet
 Loading InLinkz ...

We All Learn in Different Ways

(And We'd Like to Help You Out!)

differentDifferent Ways to Learn

The professor of educational psychology class at a university intoned, “We only learn by practicing—by actually doing something.” I shook my head in disbelief.

differentI raised my hand (I can’t keep my opinions to myself, sometimes). “So, you’re telling me that if I drove down the road, and see the vehicle in front of me bottom out in a pothole, I don’t have a different choice? I will have to go through the same pothole in order to learn that going through potholes could damage my car?”

“Hrrrum,” the professor replied. “What would you do in this situation?”

“Something different!” I exclaimed. “As a rational, thinking, relatively observant human being, I would swerve to avoid the pothole.”

“Um, yes,” he replied. “Good choice for your car. But we’re talking about the psychology of learning.”

“Agreed. But if I observe someone else making a mistake, and make a different choice with a better result, did learning take place?” Obviously, the professor (a young man in graduate school), had no siblings. Every second or third child understands the benefit of learning from the oldest sibling’s mistakes!

Our Gift to You

Carol Bovee and I have had some crazy experiences during our different cancer caregiving journeys. We’ve gone through some potholes along the way that damaged us because we didn’t take time to care for ourselves.

We’ve prepared a free book for you to help you negotiate your own caregiver journey (or tell a caregiver friend about the book!). Learn from our mistakes, without having to make them. We want you to experience a different journey—one where you come out the other end with fewer bumps and dings.

You can find the link to the free book up there in the right-hand corner. You’ll receive a free PDF of Cancer Caregiving 101: How to Survive and Thrive on Your Caregiver Journey. You’ll also receive a short series of emails that let you know about other aspects of our caregiving community.

Even if you don’t care for someone with cancer, you might find the stories inspirational and helpful in your own caregiving journey. Remember, if you know a caregiver, please pass this information along. We’d love to help others learn from our mistakes!

Get your FREE copy of Cancer Caregiving 101: How to Survive and Thrive During Your #Caregiving Journey. #selfhelp #cancer Click To Tweet

Get the FREE book!





 Loading InLinkz ...

A Near Truth is Really a Lie

Give the Gift of Honesty (and a Helping Hand)

nearGoing to Church, but Avoiding the Members

The exhaust from our 4Runner billowed like clouds in the sub-zero temperatures. Snow squeaked under my feet as I went outside to check the temperature in the vehicle. I felt chagrinned that we would drive less than a block before parking. Church was so near, but Pedro couldn’t risk a fall on the ice, nor prolonged contact with the cold. He wanted to go to church, but didn’t want to see church members.

near

Pedro and the girls in front of the tree that transplant Christmas.

“Don’t want to see anyone,” he had told me. “Tired of everyone telling me how good I look. I don’t.”

And he didn’t. When people he knew saw him, I could see the quickly veiled shock and the scarcely masked struggle for a response. They usually blurted out, “You look great!” A near lie, if by that they meant he looked good. A near truth if they meant he looked like an extra for a movie about the Holocaust.

After assuring myself that Pedro wouldn’t freeze, I went back inside to help him bundle up for the short drive. I could give him the gift of church without people.

“Drive up the sidewalk,” Pedro instructed.

I blanched. Pedro must have noticed, because he assured me, “They drive a pickup on it all the time to clear the snow. It won’t hurt anything.”

“Ok,” I breathed, before backing out of the drive way and heading to the sidewalk. I needed to let go of my compulsive rule-following and concern over what others thought of me. I pulled up near the front steps and helped Pedro inside before dashing outside to get the car off the sidewalk.

When I ran inside, Pedro had made it across the lobby and up one of the steps leading to the mother’s room.

Nothing but the Truth

He looked so frail—more like a 90-year-old than a 34-year-old. After battling cancer for eight months, he looked like he’d walked off the set of Schindler’s List—emaciated, expressionless, and practically immobile.

Many church friends hadn’t seen him since the summer, when he looked near-healthy; just a young man dealing with a bout of cancer. The battle had turned ugly in late July, and he had experienced several near-death experiences in the interim. No wonder he wanted to avoid them.

We labored up the stairs together, and sank into a comfortable couch in the darkened room. The annual Christmas program came through the speakers, filled with songs and readings of hope. After the program, I went back down to the 4Runner to get it warming, and then went back inside to visit with a few people and wait for the crowds to clear.

The lobby emptied out, so I went upstairs to help Pedro. As we neared the bottom of the stairs, a voice called out, “Pedro! It’s good to see you!”

Pedro and I both looked up and saw one of our friends rushing across the lobby to greet us. As he neared, I saw the shock and horror. I braced myself for the usual near lie. I had worked so hard to give Pedro the gift of a morning at church without having to hear the hated sentence.

Instead, our friend blurted out, “Man, you look awful!” He clapped his hand over his mouth and froze, stunned by what he had said.

Pedro burst out laughing—but considering his weakened vocal chords and his frozen face, our friend couldn’t read Pedro’s reaction.

When Pedro finally caught his breath, he held out his hand, “Thanks! I needed to hear that today. The truth.”

How to Avoid Near Lies

Give the gift of truth this Christmas. If someone looks haggard and worn out, don’t lie and say they look great. Go deeper and ask them how they are doing. Invite them out for a cup of coffee. If they say they can’t get out because they can’t get away, offer to bring the coffee to them. Caregivers don’t have a lot of spare time, but they always appreciate help!

Those who struggle with illness, whether physical or mental, don’t feel better when we, the healthy, tell them near truths (lies). They would prefer the truth. Or, if you fear offending, an honest offer of help.

To say that someone looks great when they obviously don’t, diminishes their struggle. #mentalhealth #Christmas #caregivers Click To Tweet

In this busiest of seasons, make a vow to spend less time on decorations and fleeting gifts of things, and more time looking for friends in need. To this day, Pedro has fond memories of our friend’s blurted truth—the perfect gift in a season of darkness.

 Loading InLinkz ...

Celebrate Ten Years in Remission!

Ten Years Since the last Day of Chemo

Celebrate!

Ten years since the last day of chemotherapy. Celebrate!

Today is big!  Huge!  Today we celebrate one of those milestones you never expect to even think about with your children.  Once thought of, however, the prayer that you’ll ‘make it’ is a never-ending process-type prayer!  That prayer for remission and the end of chemotherapy!

Ten years ago, my seven-year-old had his last day of chemotherapy.  It was not the last day of dealing with cancer, by any stretch, but it was the end of three and a half years of at least one chemo appointment every week, the setting aside of lengthy hospital stays and the termination of inserting horrific drugs into a little body.  Hair grew back, skin returned to healthy pink, stomach aches receded and this mom began the process of adjusting to a new normal.  My son began the process of learning to deal with the things the physicians call the “price of survival” from a catastrophic illness.

I will never forget that day.  Our whole family went to the last day of chemo.  We sat through the last drip and flushed the port for the last time  (port removal was later in the month, but we never had to access it again).

I wanted to celebrate.

We needed a huge, knock-out party.  Our family should do something fabulous.  A plane toting a giant banner.  A fireworks display.  A party with huge balloons and lots of happy shouts and singing.  A prayer-of-thanks-meeting in our church. But that takes energy – and mine had all been sucked up in the fight for life.

Instead, our battered family sat quietly together in the hospital, while Andrew cried because he wouldn’t be coming back the next week for his time with those wonderful nurses.  We watched Dora the Explorer with him, as usual, and we all ate the breakfast burrito that usually followed his early morning chemotherapy sessions.  Andrew made his round of the nurses with a very small token of our appreciation and we waved our way out the locked door of the hospital.

The longest, most painful process of our lives was over.

There was no parking lot party.  The world went about their day much as they had the day that Andrew was diagnosed with leukemia.  I wanted to shout at the passing cars, “Hey!  Don’t you see this is a big day here?”

Big.  Huge. Gigantic.

Our God got us through chemotherapy.  Cancer lost.  Sure, the doctors reminded us that the remission might or might not hold.  Of course, my boy faces a lifetime of cancer checks.   It’s a given that physical therapy for abused muscles and coordination followed.

But, for that day, the battle was won!  God carried us through.

Praise God for the end of #chemotherapy! Praise Him in the Storm! #cancercaregiving #childhoodcancer Click To Tweet

Celebrate.

We walked to our car, each quietly contemplating, in our own ways, the grandiose and loud thing that was so quietly happening.

Randy unlocked the car door and the girls climbed into the back.  Andrew stood there, looking at the playground outside the hospital.  “I wanna play on the slide,” he announced.

We all began to laugh and the girls popped back out of the car with relief.

Celebrate!

No germ phobias any more!  If Andrew wanted to be outside, he could be!  We didn’t have to wear masks!  Ever single one of us climbed up the playground equipment and went down the slide.  We played hot-lava-monster and raced around, kicking up frozen bark chips with our joyous steps.  The cold air pinkened our cheeks and the foggy air bounced our laughter back at us.  I ran to the car and took out my camera.  My gang piled up on the slide for a picture.

Andrew was done with leukemia.  Andrew was done with cancer.

Praise God!

So today I repeat: Praise God.  It has been ten years since that day our family celebrated all alone in that cold playground.  Ten years since God handed us a miracle and waited to see what we would do with that gift.

My boy is a senior in high school.

Ten years of remission.

120 months to recover from three tough years.

520 weeks without chemotherapy.

3,650 days without cancer.

From then to now – 10 years to celebrate!

Praise God and Celebrate!  His love endures forever!

Celebrating 10 years since chemotherapy! #leukemia #cancer #chemotherapy Click To Tweet
 Loading InLinkz ...