The 23rd mile

I've never been much of a runner.  I would much rather go for a long walk, do aerobics classes or lift weights.  Haven't done much of any of the above in the past year or so (or 3).  However, my 4th year of medical school, Brian and I ran a half-marathon with some of our friends.  I thought I was going to die at first.  Couldn't go half a mile without stopping.  By the end, I could easily run 4 miles and 8 miles felt pretty good.  I developed a knee injury about a week before the race and wasn't able to run my best.  The last mile, though I knew the end was in sight, was painful.  I hobbled part of the way there but managed to run across the finish line.

Brian ran a full marathon a few years before that.  Part of the race required him to run out and back so that you could see others who were 3-4 miles in front of you getting close to the end.  I think this was mile 20 or 21.  This is where many hit the wall and feel like there is no way they can go another 5 or 6 miles to the finish.  This was the most difficult part of the race for him.  When he made it across the finish line, he nearly collapsed.  I congratulated him and made sure he didn't sit down because I knew there was no way I could get him back up if he did...But I digress..

This process with Reese has been a marathon.  A long intense marathon...though many have battled cancer much much longer.  We started with a 9 hour surgery, followed by an 8 day ICU stay, numerous complications, other surgeries, etc followed by 5 cycles of inpatient chemo lasting around 3 weeks each.  Now the stem cell transplant cycle.  Reese has spent more of her months fighting cancer than not.  Brian and I have spent more nights in the hospital with her than at home...and Charlotte and Philip have spent many hours away from us.

During the other cycles, I was always worried that something (infection, complications, etc) was going to prevent her from moving onto the next step (the next cycle for instance) in a timely manner.  You have to keep pounding cancer so it doesn't have time to figure out how to fight back.  It's time sensitive.  This cycle feels different because there is no cycle to follow it.  There is no next treatment (planned). Don't get me wrong.  We could still have issues after discharge.  Reese's immune system will be very weak and we could be readmitted for fever or other issues.  She will need transfusions for awhile, etc.  But there is something encouraging to know that everything we do from here on out will be to make her get better and feel better (no more dropping her counts and supporting her until she recovers).  I'm very tired and my legs feel like limp noodles.  My bum knee is really hurting.  I hear the crowds cheering me on and it doesn't energize me sometimes.  But we are past mile 20/21 and there is an end in sight.  So in some ways, though Reese feels like absolute poo today, this is easier than some of her past cycles when it felt like we would never finish.

The hardest thing about the race is that the finish line could move back.  We could have to do more for her.  Right now, I try not to think about that.  I need to focus on our goal and be excited about the tangible victories.  The end of this treatment phase is going to be my mental "treatment marathon." We are about to enter "recovery phase marathon" where we work on getting her immune system back in shape, milestones, eating, and getting rid of central lines and gtubes.

There are several families that I follow on blogs or caring bridge etc who have done or are doing battle with cancer.  I read about their journeys and pray for them.  I have met some families here but not really gone too deep with any of them.  It's a little too much for me because it would be too hard to ride the emotional roller coaster with them.  I have to stay focused on Reese right now.  I do pray for the others though. Last night, as Reese was waking up so frequently, I checked one of the blogs I read in the middle of the night while I was waiting to see if Reese was going to settle down.  This little girl who has been battling leukemia for 2.5 years is very sick in the ICU.  She has had a difficult, hard fight and last night had to be resuscitated.  I remember Reese going to the ICU during her first cycle and how it felt to stand in the hallway and watch them wheel my baby by me on the way to a stat CT scan. And how God held us up when we wanted to sink into the floor.  This mom described a similar scenario of God's peace in the midst of these circumstances.  I was so thankful that I woke up and read the blog because I was able to cry for her and pray for her in the middle of the night last night when I'm sure she needed it most.  From the comments on her blog, it sounds like lots of people were also up last night doing the same thing.  Praying so hard for this vivacious girl named Piper!

So I'm tired but I feel like we are at the 23rd mile.  I'm a little nervous because we are still in the thick of things with cycle 6.  Something could still go wrong.  Reese still feels miserable but we are still hobbling/running to the finish of "treatment marathon." It will feel good to finish but I know that if I sit down, I may not get up again....so we push ahead and don't give ourselves that option.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.  And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.  For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.  Hebrews 12:1-3

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:33-34