carbonated joy

I’ve wrapped up another five days of constant chemo. It’s pretty odd having a wheezing juice box hooked up to you for that long. It’s pretty heavy when I first get it, but slowly it gets lighter and lighter as the life giving poison oozes into my bloodstream, until it’s empty and it’s time for a quick pit stop/refill.

Hard walks are better when you are wearing fun socks.

Sometimes right after chemo I practice an extreme form of pest control by sitting in the backyard and daring mosquitoes to bite me.

Right now, it feels like I have a wool sweater on my tongue. That is going to make my coffee fun this morning…I’m still having coffee.

I took ten pills yesterday. I shouldn’t complain, I know people who take more. But, it makes me yearn for the days when I just took one pill and it was shaped like Fred Flintstone.

I’m a tired little cowboy! When I’m on the steroids, I basically just take quick power naps between going to pee every thirty minutes.

When I do sleep I have weird dreams. One night all of my dreams were like graphic novels, they were dark and apocalyptic. I was being chased by zombie gummy bears…it was disturbing!

My head weighs as much as a small foreign made car, or at least it feels like it.

Anything that is crafted with love, whether it’s a woven stocking hat or a molasses cookie, can bring healing.

This week I found myself sitting in an infusion room between a 84 year old and a 25 year old. I’m reminded that pain does not discriminate.

I’m also reminded that in some rooms, “WHY?” is the worst question you can ask, and the only answer is because this sometimes happens to humans and you are a human.

Life is a series of trust falls. You take your place, hold your breath and fall backwards, hoping, with all your guts, that someone is going to catch you.
I find myself caught in the strong arms of love.

My wife is beautiful.

The Holy Spirit is cool.