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After my last chemo treatment on Thursday I have suffered no vomiting or trips to the ER to get tanked up on IV fluids, yeah! I am still tired and I move a little slow, but I feel much better than last time. Thank goodness for my chemo nurse Jane telling me to take all of my anti-nausea medicines until I feel better, not just one at a time.
…who’ll stop the rain. I woke up yesterday with some awesome tooth pain. After calling my oncologist to make sure I could get dental work, calling my dentist to make an emergency appointment, and going in for a blood draw to check my blood cell levels; the consensus is that my body does not like me right now. All of this hither-tither resulted in my first–and I hope last–root canal.
If you look at my previous post about teeth (link) you will understand that there is a strong theological connection between failing teeth and falling humans. I am baffled that no theologian of note has used this metaphor; when the old has gone and the new has come (II Corinthians 5:17), I am looking forward to new teeth. There is an interesting book by an Anglican theologian named N.T. Wright called Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Ressurection, and the Mission of the Church that examines what happens when we die. Wright, from what I gather so far, believes that we will be resurrected and have new bodies; I am excited to have perfect teeth and both my testicles–hmm, would I need testicles after being resurrected? Despite my degression, I think my point is valid: the metaphor of failing teeth illustrates the human condition. It is not until we recognize the weakness of our teeth–admitting we cannot fix them and we need help–that we need something to heal them–the dentist. If I was not tired I am sure I could fit grace into the haphazard exegesis, but for now I am satisfied that this is my rough draft.
Tomorrow my root canal will be completed and Thursday I will have my last chemotherapy treatment. Over the last month and a half I have made up for all the times I have not gone to the doctor or the dentist; I should be good for a while. I am not sure how my wife does it; she has basically three children to take care of and she still manages to wake up everyday. Thank you Sara for loving your husband; you deserve a pony or a monkey.
Bradie and I went for our first hike; this is her “let’s get this hike thing going face.”
After testing just one walking stick, Bradie picked up another nodding her head and saying, “I look more authentic with two.”
After several hours of work, Bradie tested her handy work: a new bridge over the creek. Not bad for a toddler.
Lastly, Bradie threw her walking sticks at the mountain lion we ran into to save her father. What you see here is her running to help me up and get us out of the wilderness. She could give Bear Grylls a run for his money.
Bradie help baby Beau fly the bird!
Before your mind drifts into 13 year-old boy territory, she was helping pull the string that spins the bird on his bouncy seat. Still, this might be the quote of the week.
