Praise the Lord
🥹 Good thing is I can stop wearing bandages now.
This treatment is [i]rough[/i]. I’m not being dramatic when I say that there were moments I was sure this was it; I was gonna die. No one understands what this feels like till they’ve been through it. And it’s harder and harder to bounce back each round.
“Well, nobody likes to be poisoned,” my oncologist had said. It’s definitely poison. Sometimes, I can’t even move. I’m so nauseated and in pain for weeks. Two rounds of this type of chemo to go. The last kind wasn’t this hard. (It also didn’t help much)
I’ve prayed to God to just finish me off already; I’m ready to die. Just get it over with. And He didn’t. So I suffer, and it made me mad even though I know His will is best. I raged against Him anyway, wondered what the point of me is. He made it clear to me: take care of your mother and her house.
That made me even more angry. [i]I don’t feel well.[/i] Ever. In my childhood, when I needed [i]her[/i], where was she?! Do you think she was kind to me? Do you think I learned any compassion or care from her?!
I know most won’t understand this, but He said “Use what [i]I[/i] taught you; not what she did.”
So I sulked a bit. In the face of the truth, I know it, but I struggle a bit to come around to it. I still accept it in the end.
I’m to take care of my mom and her house. After that, I might die or I might have another purpose in life. But until I do this, it’s not something that will be clear to me. In the meantime, I still have blessings if I’d bother to notice them. (There’s no missing this blessing. I was so sick of the bandages, the wound and its stink and bleeding. It’s hopefully over now and won’t reopen or tear somewhere else. 🙏)
This treatment is [i]rough[/i]. I’m not being dramatic when I say that there were moments I was sure this was it; I was gonna die. No one understands what this feels like till they’ve been through it. And it’s harder and harder to bounce back each round.
“Well, nobody likes to be poisoned,” my oncologist had said. It’s definitely poison. Sometimes, I can’t even move. I’m so nauseated and in pain for weeks. Two rounds of this type of chemo to go. The last kind wasn’t this hard. (It also didn’t help much)
I’ve prayed to God to just finish me off already; I’m ready to die. Just get it over with. And He didn’t. So I suffer, and it made me mad even though I know His will is best. I raged against Him anyway, wondered what the point of me is. He made it clear to me: take care of your mother and her house.
That made me even more angry. [i]I don’t feel well.[/i] Ever. In my childhood, when I needed [i]her[/i], where was she?! Do you think she was kind to me? Do you think I learned any compassion or care from her?!
I know most won’t understand this, but He said “Use what [i]I[/i] taught you; not what she did.”
So I sulked a bit. In the face of the truth, I know it, but I struggle a bit to come around to it. I still accept it in the end.
I’m to take care of my mom and her house. After that, I might die or I might have another purpose in life. But until I do this, it’s not something that will be clear to me. In the meantime, I still have blessings if I’d bother to notice them. (There’s no missing this blessing. I was so sick of the bandages, the wound and its stink and bleeding. It’s hopefully over now and won’t reopen or tear somewhere else. 🙏)
36-40
