After a week of recovery from the surgery, I was scheduled for three weeks, five days a week, of whole-head radiation treatments. The nearest radiation oncology treatment center was in a hospital an hour away. I was so weak and sick that I could not endure the drive to the hospital and back. Every day I felt worse than the day before. At the end of the first week, I was certain I couldn't go through any more.
At this point, my sister Amber, whose home was much closer to a hospital with a radiation oncology center, invited me to live with her for the next two weeks of my radiation treatments. I was grateful for Amber's kindness and generosity and gladly accepted her offer.
Wes drove me to my sister's house, where I was pampered by Amber and her three-year old son, Eli. Amber took me to the radiation center every day that week, and on Saturday, Wes drove down and brought the kids to visit me.
Wes had told me in a phone call earlier that week that Adam was having a really hard time without me. I asked Amber if it would be OK to have him stay with me for the last week of my radiation treatments. She thought it was a fine idea. So when Wes and the six older children left after visiting, Adam who was in kindergarten at the time, stayed behind with me. We were both happier. He snuggled in bed with me and quickly made fast friends with his cousin, Eli.
Although I was grateful for Amber's care and support and to have Adam with me, brain radiation was an excruciating experience. I could hear brain cells popping and could smell the flesh of my brain burning. When I finally arrived back home after completing the treatments, I was so weak and tired and my brain was so badly damaged that I could not function. I believed that eventually my brain would be healed to some extent, but at the time I was not doing well at all.
I found that I really knew two things: I could sing the theme song to any television show that aired in the 1960s or 70s – even from shows I didn't remember ever watching. Why couldn't it have been scriptures, or classic poetry, or Shakespeare that issued from my damaged brain? But no, I got: “ Sit right back and hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip . . .,” “Come listen to a story 'bout a man named Jed, poor mountaineer barely kept his family fed,” and “Who can turn the world on with her smile, who can take a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile?”
The other thing I knew, when all the worldly things had been swept away was:
Living the gospel is simple. God tells us what to do, He helps us do it, and if we mess up, He gives us another chance to get it right.
To learn more about my post-radiation experience (and to see a picture of a really cute boy), read my post "Cheering Words" Click here.
😖 😖 😖
No comments:
Post a Comment