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Bitter + Sweet: the week in review

Another week, another round of fever and immunotherapy.

Shane came shopping at Billa with me yesterday. By the end he had to sit and wait for me while I checked out, but I was glad he could join me.

M-fever treatment

Tu-fever treatment

W- Ipi + Nivo


And crash on Thursday. He was riding such a nice wave of improvement and getting more restful sleep, even fever treatment was far easier this week. But that Ipi + Nivo combo are powerful and knocked him for a loop yet again. Fatigue and sleeplessness seem to be the two side effects that Shane experiences from the drugs, and nothing else, thankfully.


Today was also difficult emotionally for the two of us. Grief is such tricky beast. I think, "I'm ok, I can do this, I'm not stressed," but the reality is far from those words I tell myself. My grief is on a hair trigger and the slightest thing can send me sliding downward...a word, a thought, a photo, a line in a book. Today was full of paralyzing fear and anxiety for the future, not to mention regrets and anger at myself. All I could do was cry and rail to Shane, write a despairing email to my bestie, and when the tears would no longer come, sleep was my escape. I awoke feeling exactly the same but more in control, that is until I spoke with my sister and the crying began afresh. Next it was Shane's turn. He spoke with Sage and when he finished his tears began to flow...despair, sadness, questioning if he has the strength for the long stretch ahead when we've only just begun, asking when our rest and peace will come. More tears (I only thought I was on empty) because when Shane cries I cry.


I'm learning that I can't think too far ahead or I will turn back from the path I'm trying to follow/forge. Just keep it simple, Alicia. One foot in front of the other. Just make it through this hour, then this day, then the week, and hopefully, eventually, the year.


Even though today I don't feel the truth of this, I'm trying to remember these words from a Mormon pioneer who traveled on foot, with handcart in tow in the midst of a ferocious winter.


"I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it. ... I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there."

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