Round 3 Wrap Up - plus chemo theology

I finished round three of chemotherapy infusions last week. That means I'm almost halfway there - 3 of 6 rounds done.

I'm learning the pattern of how the whole cycle plays out. I receive the first infusion on Monday, and I feel OK, for the most part. Infusion two is on Tuesday, and I'm definitely feeling it by Tuesday afternoon. Infusion three on Wednesday, and I feel lousy. There's fatigue, the nausea that lurks around the edges even when under control, the fogginess and lack of energy. That lasts into Friday morning, and then once the infusions are 48 hours behind me, I slowly start to feel a bit better. By Sunday, I'm off almost all of the drugs to control nausea and side effects, so I'm a little clearer, less fatigued, and generally feel a lot better.

Then a few good days before the nadir hits (see below and above). And then, if I'm lucky, a good week before I go back and repeat the whole process all over again.

I have a CT scan scheduled for the first week of February as well as an appointment with my oncologist. Hopefully that will allow a mid-treatment assessment of how it's all going.

Finally, I've been using this space to share information and how I'm experiencing all of this. Though I am a pastor, I haven't offered up any theological or spiritual reflections. I may get to that later. You never know.

But I was struck with my colleague and friend Brian's comparison of the nadir to "the depths" in Psalm 139:8. That happens to be my favorite Psalm. It's all about our inability to escape God's loving and gracious presence...even when we make our bed in "sheol" (the Hebrew); that is, in the depths. 

That's exactly what the nadir is...the depths, a pit, a place that we sink into and imagine God can't or won't follow. My experience has been that I feel the ordinary, daily sense of God's gracious presence (nothing flashy!) through all of this. That presence is always there. It follows me wherever I go, even when I descend into a chemo-induced nadir. And it's there when I go for a walk around the block. And it's there when my hands are twitching from the drugs. And it's there when I send emails, or make the coffee in the morning, or go to the bathroom for the upteenth time. Nothing dramatic. Just there. Gentle. Present. Steadfast. Strong. 

God's gracious presence -- always, eternally present.