The annoying fever edition:

So, despite coverage for three full days of IV antibiotics (four if you count ER meds), Maggie spiked the 6 o’clock fever again last night. Vancomycin has been added to the IV pole and we’re going to delay starting chemo until Sunday morning. Dr Collier (how perfect that he started 3C floor duty for this admission – thank you, Lord) feels like we may be seeing something other than the UTI which has had enough time to respond to antibiotics and get better. His theory is the fever may be coming from the pleural effusion and is not infection but irritation. If that is the case, chemo will not cause problems. If the fever is infection related (an unknown source) and we add chemo which tends to suppress the immune system, we might see a worsening of her condition. All that being said, chemo should be back on the schedule for the morning – that is our prayer. Maggie genuinely feels fine – relatively speaking. Her pain is now being controlled again via a pain med patch (an increased dose). She still has access to the PCA morphine but only seems to use it when her fever spikes.

Appetite is better. I got ready to drive this morning to the Cups location up the street (the one in Methodist Rehab is closed on the weekends and, I’m sorry, I’m a coffee snob) and Maggie asked for a double chocolate muffin – Otis Spunkmeyer brand to be painfully specific (appears she’s a muffin snob). I’m happy to add another “thanks for the small blessings” and report McDade’s grocery in Fondren stocks her muffin of choice in a three-pack.

I’ve heard the question often from some of you: How do y’all keep going for three years of this?  and I’ve thought about it in depth. First, it hasn’t been three years of “this” exactly at any time. Our lives are complex, multi-faceted, and ever-changing. We have moments of excruciating heartbreak and moments of joy so piercing it hurts, almost. Most moments are real life moments with predictable and lesser emotions attached. They happen to happen in a clinic, hospital, or traveling to a clinic or hospital. We live  the moments, not the destination. Not what hangs in the future. Because, try as I might, and, despite my hubris in thinking I can, I can’t predict one moment from now what will happen. A recent illustration: I have a tooth marked by my dentist as officially on “crown watch”. It’s on the upper right side. I also have a tooth on the lower right that reminds me of its presence (teeth are much better when they shut up and do their job) and is possibly related to TMJ (stress?) So, I’ve been chewing predominantly on my left side to give those two characters a break. Yesterday, I chipped a tooth on, you guessed it, the left side. We create more trouble when we allow our own forecast to cloud reality. Just chew.

Second, we laugh a lot. And we laugh at things that would make others stare at us and think we’ve lost our minds. But once you laugh at something (biliary drains, medications, needles, colostomies, surgeries, and, yes, even cancer), it loses some of its fear factor. Just laugh.

Third, and most importantly, is our faith. We question the fairness of childhood illnesses, the purpose of suffering, and, honestly, the nature of our God in allowing illness and suffering. And this is what we find Him saying to us: it is in His redeeming the worst situations for His own glory and our own good that we experience the best of all He is. Paradox to end them all. We experience just enough of the effects of the Fall to fix our hope beyond this world to the next and the eternal beauty waiting beyond the momentary ugly. We find comfort as the attractions and charms (love that quaint word) of this world slip away. The promise of no more pain, tears, and chipped teeth brings more peace the more we experience those trials. Just hope.

Whatever you face – keep your eyes on the moment, your humor within reach, and your faith in our only hope, the Author of Life.

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:1-2