Wednesday: February 8, 2012

I thought I'd had arrived at the Clinic in time this morning to spend a few minutes with Didi, But as I emerged from the elevator, she and her husband, Lawrence, were waiting to step inside.

Didi handed me a small box. Inside was an angel medallion inscribed with the words “Give me strength.”

I thanked her and said I'll make sure I arrive earlier tomorrow. Lawrence's last day of treatment is Friday and our paths won't likely cross after that. They are preparing to move to Texas in a couple weeks.

Radiation took mere minutes. It is a strange, sterile and painless process. I've become better at anticipating what The Big Machine is doing and when treatment is over.

The trip to Parma for Day 3 of Round 2 went quickly. It was as if Obama was in town and had cleared the freeway given the lack of traffic.

Joanne arrived at the infusion center a bit after me. She looked good. We said a short prayer praising the day and got down to the business of better living through potentially deadly science.

I smiled to myself and considered the emotional roller coaster I've been on. It's okay. Cancer has been suffused with good and bad, yin and yang. Very strange.

My nurse today was Cindy. My blood pressure was up quite a bit. Cindy says she has that effect on people. She also blamed the steroids, which might also explain the mood swings. After tossing down an Emend, the (very expensive) anti-nausea med, I waited for a little while for my single bag of chemo drugs.

Cindy and I spent a few minutes talking. She knows well my predicted outcome. Lung cancer is the leading cause of cancer death in the U.S. But she said 15 years of oncology nursing has taught her this: Not only can she help people live longer, she can help them fully recover.

I told her that learning about this cell mutation business had been a rude slap in the face that continued to sting.

Cindy didn't try to dance around that regrettable fact, but reminded me that numbers are just that. Regardless of whether we have a bad disease or not, we must concentrate on each and every day of our lives, she said.

That concept, living day-to-day, has been appearing in my life with startling frequency. There must be something to it.

I've stopped listening to my car radio. I've chosen alternative programming – the Mark and God Hour. It's a time when I can ask God to help people I know and care for and, with increasing frequently, myself. I'm becoming more comfortable praying for me. Initially, it struck me as unseemly, almost craven.

More soulful and prayerful minds have convinced me otherwise. God forgives me and I don't have a choice in the matter.

I'm most comfortable thanking God for giving me this day. It's wonderful to make plans, to anticipate. But the real work must be the here and now. In this moment, it's the beauty of the swirls and curves created by ink against paper.

I believe God has given me a small gift, the ability to put one word in front of the other. This is my attempt not to squander that gift.

Ultimately, this is not about the messenger. It's the message.

I believe I have one. I hope I truly learn what that message is.