Of Pulled Rugs and Tapestries

It has happened again. The rug, Pulled out from under our feet and we are struggling to regain our footing. Reeling. Sad. Clinging. I battled fevers, rash (covered every part of me except my soles and palms), and pain last weekend and until the middle of last week. I was on all kinds of medications to combat it and lived in the mental fog of either pain or drug induced fatigue. I slept little and wept much. I have been off the new chemo for over a week. The chemo we prayed and fought for. The chemo my oncologist felt like was the next good way to fight. I saw her yesterday–the amazing woman who has fought for my life with me for almost thirteen years. We learned last week that she is leaving and relocating across the country. I grieve this loss deeply. I’m weary of loss. In the lives of my friends there has been highest of highs and lowest of lows this past week. On Saturday, we reeled with the death of an older neighbor across from us, one whom Brian had been faithful to care for when needs arose. We are shaken. Reeling. Sad. Clinging. One …