D Day

OK, maybe I should say "C Day," because that's what tomorrow is. Chemo Day. Numero uno of the post-surgery, follow-up chemotherapy.

I'm taking the day off work because I don't know quite what to expect. Here's what I do know:

• I'll have blood drawn and tested.
• I'll see my oncologist, Dr. W-G (she's "hyphenated").
• I'll sit in a comfy chair for several hours while the chemo mix is pumped into the port in my chest.
• I'll leave with a fanny-pack that has a two-day supply of chemo and a pump.
• A nurse will come to my house on Saturday and unhook "Fanny."
• I'll go through the whole thing again in two weeks.

I'm taking the book I'm reading now (The Red Tent by Anita Diamant), my iPod, and a lunch. The chemo will start around 10:30 a.m., so it'll likely go through the lunch hour (hey, maybe I can work in some reading, some eating, some music, and some napping -- a perfect day!).

Here's a prayer that I say every day. It was written by Rev. Scott Schmieding, a Lutheran pastor and cancer survivor.

"Dear God, I thank You that nothing can separate me from Your love.

"Strengthen my faith in You as I fight cancer.

"Touch me with Your healing hand.

"Give me an optimistic attitude and positive spirit even as I deal with pain, treatments, frustrations, tests, and the unknown.

"Give me special measures of Your help and grace.

"In Christ's name I pray. Amen."

Touch me with Your healing hand. That's my favorite line.

Until next time ...

P