Well, that was embarassing

Yesterday was an all around bad day.  I knew it would be.  Got the kids to the Dr for check ups and everyone is doing well.  They were troopers with mom in the waiting room.  I wore a face mask so I wouldn't catch whatever was floating around in there.  Don't know what's happening with my white blood cells right now but I'm going to guess it isn't good.  Kids did well ignoring the stares of strangers.  "Wow, you're sick" their eyes say.  "No" I think, "you're sick and I can't catch it."  I know I looked weird but I am trying really hard to stay healthy.  And like I said, kids just rolled with it.  They're troopers.

If that was all that was on the plate I could have made it through the day.  My mom fed us and while she finished dinner I had a chance to lay down and rest.  There is just no time to rest.  The pharmacist from the Cancer Center called yesterday to check on some other side effects I'm having (which you're glad I'm not sharing here) and gasped when I said how much I am working.  What do they expect?  We're trying this on for life right?  I need to know if I can do this forever, not how many sick days I can take.

Anyway, we had Session last night and COM was here because I had previously been making a fuss about their complete neglect of tri-annual visits.  Presby people know what I'm talking about.  When the meeting opens at 6:30 I am so profoundly tired I cannot open my eyes.  Literally, I am falling asleep sitting at the table.  I listen to folks check-in and I cannot keep my eyes open.  Finally my turn to check-in and I try to explain how tired I am and how I am totally listening but I can't open my eyes and instead of allowing me to talk my stupid body starts crying.  I was mortified.

Women in ministry know what a "no-no" crying is.  It is just such a cudgel used to bludgeon us when we accidently let it slip.  Being a woman in a man's job is a challenge and crying is the absolute worst thing you can do.  Ugh.  It would be one thing if it was just my people, they know me and they know I don't cry.  But COM was there, strangers were there who had come to judge us, and I was beyond embarrassed.  It was the worst ever.

Within an hour or so I had energy back and could participate fully but the mistake was there.  I know I couldn't control it and yes everyone understands but that doesn't make it OK.  Like a cup too full of water, my tears just slosh out.  I can't help it.  And I am so tired.  So, so tired.  There is nothing of me left.

Next week we finally go back to the oncologist and I am going to be really clear.  I can't live like this.  I can't parent and I can't pastor and I can't live.  This chemo has scraped away all my insides and I am just a shell.  I have nothing.

If this will shrink the tumor so we can cut it out fine, I'll stay on it for a little longer.  But we have to lower the dose.  If that is not an option then get me the hell off this shit.  You can have my foot.  I just want my life back.

Olivia being a trooper.