Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Tanya Writes About Bigstix, Birdseed, and Vicodin

Last night I cried in the car all the way to get him a chocolate milk shake. I think he knew, but by this time, I think he understands when I can't help it or hide it. The hip pain I wrote about the other day got worse and worse, so "worse" he said he almost cried.

Now, this is a guy who fought a forest fire in Big Sur for fourteen straight days a while back. Who sandbagged the Pacific Ocean for the big babies in Malibu who consider themselves too special to live among the rest of us. Who revels in home improvements and yardwork to keep his homestead tidy. Who worked his buns off to pay college tuition.

This is a strong guy. It's just the chemo brings him so damn low. Today the doc and the nurses, those angels Abby and Linda who have survived this scourge from the Devil, told him the pain is part of it. His BEP is the most brutal protocol of all and it's accumulated now, and while it's helping him, it hurts, too. While we had some good-ish days with the first two rounds, those days are over. We're in the homestretch and this stuff--literally poison--has built up. They're easing the pain with vicodin, but he's gotta keep a stiff upper lip.

Then I remember my friend Darlene whose pretty girl has died. Whose voice she'll never hear again. Who won't hunt another Easter egg. Darlene's blogging about her pain and most of all her faith, and she helps get my own unbelief in check, resurrecting it back to that amazing grace I need so bad.

My hero and I will be able to talk to our pretty girl tonight. We are blessed. We are blessed for the miracles of medical science, for a brave waste-no-time doctor. For nurses whose special place in heaven won't be special enough.

We're blessed for the heroes that have gone before to prove to us It Can Be Done. Abby told us today we gotta read Lance Armstrong's book, so I'll pick it up tomorrow.

Right now, I've got to check my sleeping hero. Then it's off to the grocery store to buy the popsicles he loves, and seed to fill the birdfeeder he built for me himself. Soon it'll be time for the dozen doves to pop in for their dinner.

Live strong!


Darlene Franklin said...

Dear Tanya, how thankful I am that God brought us together. One of the good things that comes out of tragic circumstances, like your husband's illness and my daughter's death, is our increased sensitivity to the pain of others. God will see us both through.

Tanya Hanson said...

Thank you, my precious friend!