We met Brett's new oncologist today and got a "game plan" for chemotherapy. We liked the doctor very much. He was kind and caring and well versed on Brett's case. He knew intricate details and his plan paid attention to each of those details. He told Brett that there is hope and we are going for the gold medal- we just won't settle for bronze. I like having a coach who won't take less than first place. It's reassuring. As we enter the competition- Brett versus cancer- it is good to know that our coach has a solid game plan and we are aiming for a complete win. I like this new metaphor. It is very reassuring and it makes one feel active in the process. Although I am merely a cheerleader and water girl I hope to provide a supporting role that allows for Brett's continued strength when the game feels long and he grows weary. I will be waiting at the finish line and will usher him to the podium. The final ceremony will take place around our 25th anniversary in August so I'm dreaming of where to hold it. I'm hoping to celebrate the gold medal walking along the coast in Monterey, California, hand in hand.
My father used to read Reader's Digest faithfully. One of his favorite sections was "Laughter is the Best Medicine". If you know him this is a metaphor for his life. He taught me to laugh and it has been a gift during many difficult times. Laughter is healing. I'm ever grateful that Brett and I can laugh together. I am thankful that many liquids have shot forth through nostrils at our dinner table. Today brought great laughter. A caring doctor who knows nothing of our history broke the sad news to us that the treatment would render Brett unable to have more children. He was so very serious, not realizing we had taken care of this many years ago and were already dreaming of the day we would chase our grandchildren around the park and then happily send them home. Brett and I giggled and the jokes that ensued throughout the day were a bit off color and downright hilarious. At one point it seemed almost surreal. We had just gotten gruesome details of side effects of chemo and had been prepared for a game that will last six months. We were laughing in the middle of lunch, laughing with the kids as we broke the sad news that there would be no siblings, laughing at inside jokes this evening. We laughed. What a beautiful gift to share. What wonderful medicine for a fearful and weary soul.
Brett had to have his chemo port checked today which brought a visit to the chemotherapy room. There were three older men receiving treatment and one of them was very animated and talking to the nurse and laughing about his dog. That laughter was such a beautiful sound. Laughter is medicine but today it was also music. The melody soothed my soul and relaxed Brett's heart rate.
On the way to winning the gold medal I am hoping to laugh and sing with others sharing the journey. I'm so thankful for those cheering us on.
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