My neck and shoulder ache badly tonight. I feel the weight of grief and sadness. I feel the hollowness of loss. I'm finding it hard to keep my chin up so to speak and nothing brings any satisfaction.
When I backtrack through my day I stop abruptly at the moment the nurse practitioner told us Edd's numbers were inching up again after having fallen during the last few weeks. She wasn't concerned saying that the scans tell a more accurate story of what the cancer is doing, but we tend to get discouraged when the numbers go anywhere except down.
I had a bad dream last night. The kind that, upon waking, a deep peace eventually sweeps over you when you realize none of it really happened. I wish this cancer stuff was a bad dream.
I'm good most of the time. I am strong and hopeful. But often I just wish I had more faith, more love, less fear, more trust.
The worst thing about days like this is I find it hard to give of myself. I find it difficult to find the strength in me. I'm close to empty and have little to contribute.
I find myself silent. How can I even complain when I have a husband who doesn't? How can I whine and feel sorry for myself when he himself refuses to?
We do need to be patient with and good to ourselves on the less-then-perfect days. They come...and go. I really want to learn the lessons God has for me in these times. I want to accumulate a heart that is rich...and full of wisdom.
Even so I accomplished a lot today in spite of myself. That messy pantry got cleaned out and I put a package together to mail to my son-in-law in Iraq. I wrote cards to a few friends... a birthday card, a thank-you card and a get-well card. Kept busy with numerous chores putting one foot in front of the other and kept going.
So I endure the occasional days that find me down in the dumps knowing that the next one may bring new hope, fresh thoughts, brighter moments, and increased faith... and a new supply of love to give.