WILL I ever learn

"You knew this was coming."

Yes, I did. They said it would get progressively harder with each treatment. They told me I would lose my hair. They told me about the rotten side effects. Of course they did. "Results may vary" of course, but in general they tell you the things that are probably going to happen.

But, even though everything is happening (mostly) like they said it would, nothing prepared me.

My second treatment. After labs, I met with a very pretty and extremely competent PA with the coolest name ever. Later, I kept saying her name over and over because it sounded like the perfect name for a character in a kids book. She'd be the nice, young teacher/neighbor/librarian/babysitter/aunt who is just enough unlike a parent to be considered super cool by the children in the story. Anyway, she told me: what you experienced with the first treatment pretty much sets the standard for the next 3 in this series, so now you know what to expect. Okay, I thought, three or four impact days, max. Let me at 'em.

Since I had a chance to change my facility to one much closer to home, and I was feeling great, I drove myself to the appointment. Driving home three hours later I was feeling very satisfied. I did it. Halfway through the hardest treatments. I was tired, but "fine." Not too much later I realized I was crashing, earlier, and harder.

I still wanted to believe what the PA told me. So, the next two days I tried to maintain the same pattern as before. I drug myself in to work on Friday and went through the motions, but this was nothing like the last time. I was expecting Saturday to be bad, it was before. But not this bad. Saturday rolled into Sunday, and I wasn't able to get out of bed to make it to Mass. Again, totally unlike the previous treatment. By Sunday night after the first treatment, going in on Monday was not going to be a problem. This time, I couldn't imagine trying to get up, get dressed, and drive to the office.

Three or four impact days before were now five or six. Bundles of side effects and symptoms and pain, much harsher than the first time. Suddenly it didn't feel like I was "halfway through," it felt like this was only the second of four in this series.

But, they told me this was coming.

Starting sometime Friday my scalp hurt.  Laying my head on a pillow, putting on a beanie, adjusting the pillow. It hurt. My hair hurt.

Saturday after chemo I dragged myself into the shower to see if it would make me feel better (it did for a time). I'm not sure why I did it, but before I crawled back into bed I ran my hand across the top of my head, over the sink. A surprising snow shower of hair fell. "It's happening," I said to the dog. "It's really happening." I slept most of the rest of the day.

That little bit of hair in the sink was nothing. The next day in the shower it was literally coming out in handfuls. To end this story quickly: I buzzed what was left all the way down with clippers on Sunday, and 24 hours later shaved it the rest of the way with a razor. It wasn't pleasant to do, and it was hard, but it was a relief. My scalp quit hurting.

So, now I am bald. Not a #2 guard type bald. Not the cute Natalie Portman buzz-cut "bald," but really, really bald.

They did tell me this was coming.

Knowing it's coming. It feels like it should help, right? You know this is going to hurt. You know this isn't going to be easy. You know you're going to look different. You know you won't be able to hide it well. Knowing it's coming means you can prepare. You can make decisions. You can get things lined up. I've been doing that, haven't I? Then why does it still seem like a slap across the face.

I've been really struggling to figure out why I have been so angry about this. And by the way, admitting that I'm angry isn't easy. It's not brave or funny. It's the "why me" anger that is pretty crappy and unattractive. I want to be over this.

I started this story last night. I knew it was not my usual, plucky post, and I was searching for a happy ending. I considered just throwing it out and starting over, maybe with a funny story about me and Bob. But I couldn't do it. This is all real, and it's all happening.

So this morning I went as far as I could and closed the laptop. I pushed this whole thing across the table to the Lord. I can't figure this out.

Then He told me.

The disciples all knew what was coming. And so did Jesus.

"He was teaching his disciples and telling them, 'The Son of Man is to be handed over to men and they will kill him, and three days after his death he will rise.' But they did not understand the saying, and they were afraid to question him." (Mark 9:31-32)

I can relate to the disciples more now than ever. These guys knew it what was coming, at least they were told. They knew it sounded hard and painful. They had time to prepare, make decisions, get their minds right. But when the whole thing went down, they still freaked out, messed up, ran away. And I'm guessing they were pretty mad.

Jesus knew what was coming. His God nature saw/sees the whole thing in one smash, unstuck in time. But in the Garden the human Jesus asked the Father to take this cup away from him. Then he said, "still, not my will but yours be done." (Luke 22:42). 

Jesus was only a stone's throw away from the disciples when he said this. I'm guessing here but it seems like this was a very practical lesson for those guys on how to deal with something that is coming that isn't a birthday party with cake and balloons. 

For me, this is not just about knowing what was coming with the cancer, the mastectomy, and the chemo. And I know it. This is about knowing what's coming in LIFE. St. Teresa of Avila (and many others) reminds me constantly: all things are passing. Washers break. Siding falls down. We run out of coffee. Roofs leak. Toilets run over. People get sick. Babies cry. The souffle is ruined. 

God never changes. His will is perfect. His love never changes. It's the only constant. If I really believed that, how would it change the way I look at the rest of my life, whatever happens? 

So, today I need to say, shout, pray, doodle, whisper, tattoo, tweet, and embroider on a pillow: 

NOT MY WILL BUT YOURS BE DONE.