The strong medicine started last week.
Chemotherapy. It’s become a catch-phrase. The in crowd calls it “chemo.” A blended word–chemical therapy. In Old Testament times they used a cake of figs, topically applied, to cure the sick. These days, it’s a little more complicated.
The theory here is to poison the cancer cells without killing off the host. There’s actually quite a bit of poisoning involved, though. Anything that has a known M.O. of making you tired, nauseated and hairless MUST be pretty strong stuff.
I can’t complain. As chemo effects go, I sailed through Round One, which was last Thursday morning. Thursday afternoon, fine. Friday…fine, too. I worked from home, just in case the effects manifested themselves the day after. I didn’t want to be thirty-seven miles from home if they did. I can hear it now…”hey EMS guys, we have all these ambulances that aren’t busy, who can give Katy a ride home?” Oh, gosh. Not happening. Fortunately, at least this time, I proved to be a tough old bird. Friday was OK.
Saturday I awoke with a little headache and teeny, tiny, dab of nausea. It was a lot like the first few weeks of pregnancy–sort of a fatigue fog that floats persistently around your head all the time. I faithfully took my anti-nausea pills and lurked about not doing much all day. Went to church, went out for dinner with friends, went to bed. Sunday, it was lifting. I went for a bike ride and it was exhilarating. Cold, crisp, brrrr-y in the shadows and warm in the sunny spots. Glorious.
Monday, I went to work. And life goes on.
So the strong medicine is launched. Let it be strong medicine for me. A tool that God uses to catapult me out the other side into a healthy future.
Now Isaiah had said, “Let them take a cake of figs and apply it to the boil, that he may recover.” Isaiah 38:21