Why I can't hate you, 2016.

"I'm going to leave before I get my feelings hurt," Bob said.

There's a reason I haven't been updating, and it's that this part of my treatment is, well, really boring. As promised, Taxol doesn't seem to take as huge a toll on my body as the AC treatment did. I go once a week now, but other than the 1/2 day I have to take for the appointment, I don't miss any more work. There are some not-so-great things about this part, like bloody noses, intense sinus pain and pressure, eyebrows and eyelashes falling out, of course the fatigue. 

There's a new side effect to add to the list which led to Bob's comment yesterday: being really irrationally honked off for no apparent reason at everything. I got mad at the dog, the weather, HGTV (yeah, the network), the stupid coffee pot, the staticky clothes coming out of the dryer. Bob knew this wasn't directed toward him, and I didn't really have control over it, we even talked about it. So he went to run some errands and leave me alone. 

In spite of my chemo rage, I decided to spend the day doing one of my favorite things. I had been waiting for the right time to get my hands on the basement guest room, one of the last rooms in the house that needed decorating. I finally had all my things gathered together, and I had been looking forward to it. So even though I still occasionally kicked a pillow, groaned audibly, said "REALLY  RILEY?" or flailed around because I couldn't get a package open, I got the room put together, stood back, and was pleased with the result. It was a hard day for me emotionally. But.

That's kind of the story of 2016. We had some really pretty rotten things that happened. Lots of frustrations, unexpected expenses, setbacks, losses. We had some really scary things. Cancer, surgeries, treatment, pain. We cried many tears.

But. 

We had people praying for us.

It was an amazing thing. When we told people I had been diagnosed with cancer and asked for prayers, people responded, instantly and profoundly. There were rosaries, novenas, prayers at Mass, prayers in Bible study groups. Friends, family, total strangers were praying. Even people who don't consider themselves "religious" or who rarely pray were turning to God. I immediately started asking God for miracles for them -- not healing for me (although that would be okay too). Regardless of what happened to me, I wanted people to keep talking to God. I prayed, and still pray daily, for miracles for anyone/everyone who prayed for me.

We had family.

I knew whatever happened we had the family. My mother-in-law was a rock I clung to at appointments during the discovery phase. She prayed with us. She cried with us. She took care of us. My father-in-law was also there, steady and calm. I had my siblings-in-law who were always there with encouragement. I had extended family in- and out-of-state who sent their love in so many ways. I wish I could give a tenth of that support to any person out there going through cancer treatment who doesn't have family.

We had the sacraments.

This was a big one for me. I mean we always have the sacraments, but in the most stressful times this year we craved them even more. As soon as I was diagnosed we talked to our parish priest and I asked for the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. It was not only comforting, but reminded me that suffering has meaning. After all, Jesus didn't say "pick up your feather bed and follow me." So in a small way I was participating with Jesus in the suffering of the Cross. Reconciliation. What can I say about this one? Being sick and scared (and a weak human) has often led me to do or say things I know have offended God. So I have run to him in this sacrament, knowing God is patiently waiting for me, offering me his mercy and forgiveness. And then the Eucharist, the "source and summit" of our faith. After surgery there were a couple of Sundays when I couldn't make it to Mass, so Bob brought me communion. While I was home recovering and there was daily Mass in our chapel at work, he would bring me communion. During the AC part of chemo when I was too sick to get out of bed, Bob brought me the Eucharist then, too. After Bob's surgery I brought him communion on the first couple of Sundays when he was too sore to go to Mass. For me, it's not a nice-to-have, the Eucharist is a must-have. I need Jesus for real.

We had each other. 

There will never be a time, ever again, when Bob won't remember me at my absolute weakest, my absolute lowest, my least attractive, my most in pain, my most scared. There won't be a time ever again when I won't remember Bob weak, crying, writhing in agony and hospitalized. This was the "worse" part they talk about. The truth is, we have already had lots of practice. Maybe it wasn't "cancer" before, but there was some pretty bad stuff that went down in the past 16 years, and the heat and pressure from those things welded us together.

So that's why I can't hate 2016. 

Yes, 2016 was the year I found out I had cancer. But 2016 was also the year I found out I am going to live. Lots of people have told me how strong I am. That comment surprises me every time, because I don't think of myself as strong. I don't think of myself as having "kicked cancer's butt." I'm really weak, I miss a lot of stuff, I get off the track. But I'm still here. I think I'm still here to keep figuring things out, to keep praying for other people, to keep trying to do God's will.

Tomorrow's readings include this blessing from the book of Numbers, which I share with all of you:

The LORD bless you and keep you!
The LORD let his face shine upon
you, and be gracious to you!
The LORD look upon you kindly and
give you peace!

Here we come, 2017. Sunday we get to start a whole new year, and we'll just see what happens.

Happy New Year.