Beauty in the Ashes

  

Well, we made it through Monday! I wanted to ask for your continued prayers as we head into tomorrow. Libby did great today, but I forgot to tell y’all about a minor hiccup we had last clinic visit. If you weren’t aware, our almost three-year-old is a very strong and determined little girl. And she's increasingly aware of what each and every clinic visit will bring. She knows the medicines she likes, and the ones she doesn’t. She sips the ones she likes right down, and promptly spits out the ones she doesn’t. There is no fooling her. Not for long. And she hates anyone messing with her port site. She puts up a pretty good little fight when they access her port.  And she likes to tug at her line and wince every so often, just to make sure we know she’s good and annoyed. So last visit. Apparently, she tugged too hard, dislodged her needle, and some of her medication was absorbed subcutaneously. Thankfully, this particular medication can actually be given this way.  It wasn’t as big of a deal as it could’ve been. Thankfully, it wasn’t the medication given to her minutes before. Seriously, thank you, God. Still, the incident has aggravated her port site a bit, which has aggravated her much more than a bit. Add on to all of this that we decided it might be a good idea to speed up the rate at which her chemo is given (so there would be less time for her to be able to tug at her line while these meds are going in) and, well, a lot of vomiting ensued. 

But we met the kindest Aflac volunteer today. She wanted to know Libby. She wanted to know all about her. And she genuinely wanted to know all about me. We had the nicest conversation. Bless her heart, she sat down to talk with us right before all the craziness began. She read Libby books and sang with her.  Libby kept asking for song repeats, and she would sing the song over and over again. And when the vomiting started, she must’ve run back and forth 15 times bringing us washcloths, a change of clothes, lollipops, ice, popsicles, towels, sheets, you name it. And our nurse would’ve done the exact same thing, but she couldn’t because she was so carefully watching the medicine she was administering. It was a crazy 45 minutes. And in the middle of it all, covered in vomit, all I could think was that there is such beauty here. I told Hib the minute he called to check on us. God continuously shows me beauty in the ashes. Sometimes right in the thick of the fire. These people. He just drops them in our lives. They help us. Talk to us. Pray for us. They give us glimpses of Him. He’s here. Beauty in even these ashes. 

On our way out, I had to literally tear Libby away from three precious nurses who are absolutely in love with her. And the feeling is mutual. She would move back and forth between each of them, dancing with them, and didn't want to come back to me. And tomorrow, three doctors and nurses (from different practices) have coordinated their incredibly busy schedules to work together to make things as easy as possible for us, and for our little girl. Beauty in the ashes, right? We’ll be at day surgery at 6am. We’ve got to do a version of this all over again. Tomorrow. I’m not thrilled. And I would probably be more anxious, coming off today, if I didn’t have all of you. Thank you for showing me even more beauty.