Where to begin?
I’m a month and a half out from my last chemo. I’m feeling mostly normal now, except for some cold induced neuropathy – tingling in my hands and feet when I am cold; and a numbness in my mouth when I eat certain things. I can’t walk quite as far as I could pre-chemo yet, but it’s coming. What a welcome change. I feel like I spent the last 5 months in bed, and I know chemo is a miserable terrible thing (chills, fever, nausea, neuropathy, TIRED, foggy brain, apathetic feeling, and more…). Please pray that my colon cancer never ever returns, and I will never need it again.
I’ve been released by my doctor and by Wycliffe to return to Cameroon, BUT, I will have checks for cancer every 3 months for a year and every 4 months for the next several years. I’ll get colonoscopies done much more often. If after 5 years it hasn’t reoccurred (in my lungs or liver), I’ll be officially cancer free. From this one anyway.
Cameroon is not known for oncologists. SO, we have plan A. Chris will go to Cameroon in the beginning of January and stay for a month. Kristin will go with him and move into our friends’ (and fellow missionaries) home to finish her senior year with her class of 10 (she’s been part of the class since 6th grade).
Noah is set to ship out to boot camp for the Marines on December 14. If you’d like his address to send him a letter, let me know and I’ll send it when I get it. It seems this time his leaving home will be a permanent thing. It will be months before we can see him.
Ben and I will be holding down the fort here in Forest, Va. He will continue with his 10th grade classes, and I’ll be taking care of my medical things and hopefully working to recruit teachers for Wycliffe’s missionary kids’ schools. Hopefully I’ll make it to Kristin’s graduation in June, fly back with her and get her settled into college (she’s applied to 10 schools!), have my summer cancer check and return to Cameroon after that.
We have made these plans, but they are loosely held (Proverbs 16:9 A man’s mind plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps.). One thing I definitely know now is that I have no control over anything. Visas are more difficult to get for Cameroon right now and we are waiting for our Carte d’Organisme (a type of residency card) to be renewed. There are a lot of Covid tests required – for visas, for travel, on arrival in Cameroon… We’ll need a tad bit more monthly support, partially to cover the more expensive insurance plan I need to be on. Who knows what my health will be like as we move forward, but hopefully great.
SO many changes. So many moving pieces. And it will be different with just one kid at home. We are still in flux, still sorting things out, still prayerfully hopeful for plan A to happen.
And I’ve been learning. Rest, be still. Know that the Lord is good, and he is near. Anxiety isn’t helpful and God is in control. I get to talk to him about everything that is going on (or not happening!) and he listens, he knows, he cares, he loves me.
Home for me for the next 6 months or so will still be in this little apartment, with fewer occupants and life will again be different.
In my time of treatment, I understood why someone would want to quit and be okay with death. Sometimes the cure is worse than the illness. I would not recommend chemo for old people. It was awful. Now I try to live each day for today. Try. Try to enjoy my kids, the weather, the beauty of this world, friends, my sweet husband. Because you never know what tomorrow will be like. I am still longing for heaven and the peace and joy that will be there. No sickness, no sorrow. But for now, I’ll be here in my temporary home.
Here's some fall photos- birthdays, friends, my mom, ballet, Halloween costumes...
