Chemo Nesting...

It's funny the way our natural, human response to change is wanting to make everything 'just so' around us. Yes. The ritual of preparation. A ritual I think particularly applies with us women.

Yesterday and Monday were both days of nesting for me...chemo-nesting, that is.
Organizing, purging, sorting and re-organizing. It was hard not to feel a bit of de-ja-va from the last time I felt urged to do this which, consequentially, wasn't more than a month ago when we thought surgeries were on the horizon.

With pregnancy-nesting, the thoughts are filled with a little person-to-be---wanting everything to be just so with the space and atmosphere that that little human's going to know as 'home.'

With surgery, the thoughts are concerned with post-op---having what you need in recovery and wondering what the 'battle-wounds' are going to look like, after everything.

With chemo, it's different. It's hard to explain.
I suppose it's like if you could imagine one thing you never, in your wildest of dreams thought you'd be doing. Then imagine someone coming along and saying 'Guess what, you're going to do (insert wildest dream here)... Where would YOUR thoughts be?!

EXACTLY.
All. Over. The. Place.

From the get-go, I've been surrounded by people---loving friends and friends of friends...even family of friends of friends of friends twice-removed, ha---who have connected up with me to be a support in this. It's a beautiful thing when you discover you are loved and supported to the extent that people who've never even MET you love and care about you and are pulling for you.
(As I've said before *though I don't recommend going out and getting cancer*, it really is a great way to learn how loved you are.) It's wonderful to be in touch with people who've 'been there' or are even 'there now'---though I don't know that I can say it entirely rids the chaotic mess in your head.

I keep comparing this to when I was pregnant with Gray and every mother around me shared her birth-story...or pregnancy story...or both. While it was interesting to know and certainly informative, it didn't really help me to know what to expect with my OWN labor because every experience is a different formula, if you will, of circumstances.
This is exactly how I'm feeling about chemo.
I've never HAD chemo. I've been told some things I can expect, but they are a vast amount of 'maybe's' and 'maybe nots' that make up each conversation, whether it be with docs or just other 'courage-warriors.'

Where does this all leave me?

Living IN the moment...still. People keep asking me what Monday (our first day of chemo) is going to look like. If I see you in person and you ask me that, please be prepared for the 'beat's me' look. ;) I really don't know. I know I will be sitting in a chair, not far from my wig-lady's station, 'plugged in' to a machine, via my chest port, but beyond that... I just don't know.
I know there is a possibility that I will be receiving just the standard chemo treatment, but there's a stronger possibility that I will be receiving that as well as a combination of other study target-drugs in my (as my mom keeps calling it) 'cocktail.' I also know that there is a possibility that I won't feel too great 24 to 48 hrs after my treatment, but there is also the possibility that I will not feel much at all.

I just don't *and won't* know until I'm there, in THAT moment. And that's ok with me. It has to be.

What I DO know however is my emotional need in all of it is to nest.
What I also know is how much perseverating I have to KEEP DOING on my Word and the beautiful Words in the awesome hymns my dad keeps sending me every morning since he know music has ALWAYS spoken to me in an extra special way. ;)

So. Now, I nest. And I pray. And I sing at the top of my lungs... while nesting. ;)


Which reminds me...
I need to crank up my tunes and go put that cupboard back together~