'Twas the Night Before Chemo

'Twas the night before chemo, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse.
The blankets were folded and meds set with care,
In hopes that tomorrow he'd bravely be there.

The dogs were curled up and stretched out on the bed,
While checklists and worries still danced in my head.
With his bag packed and ready, a blanket and book,
I stared at the calendar, stealing one last look.

Earlier that evening, with a mischievous grin,
He grabbed a fistful of beard hair and tickled my chin.
"One last fuzzy assault before chemo," he'd say,
And laughed as I swatted his whiskers away.

When out in the hallway there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my pillow to see what was the matter.
Away to the doorway I shuffled with care,
Only to find one of the dogs standing there.

The moon through the window cast a silvery glow,
On the journey ahead that we'd soon have to go.
And what to my tired eyes should appear,
But texts from our people bringing comfort and cheer.

They didn't bring sleigh bells or packages bright,
Just offers of rides and "You've got this!" all night.
With prayers and with laughter, with cards and warm meals,
They reminded us healing is more than what medicine heals.

Then back to our bedroom, with a heart feeling light,
I gathered my courage for tomorrow's first fight.
For cancer may challenge and cancer may test,
But it never gets to decide who we are at our best.

The charger was packed and the snacks were all set,
Along with the things that we'd surely forget.
For no chemo trip ever in history, it's true,
Has left home with exactly the things it should do.

And I heard in my heart as I turned out the light,
"Take it one day at a time and you'll be all right."
So with hope as our companion and faith as our guide,
We faced the next morning with loved ones beside.

Happy chemo eve to all, and to all, a good night.

Tomorrow marks the start of David’s second cycle of chemo, and emotions are running high. I’m anticipating that he’ll be off work for the rest of the week as he deals with the symptoms. As I’ve said many times before, I would take away his pain and suffering in a heartbeat if I could.

This morning, he admitted that he’s more nervous about this round of chemo than he was the first. I’m doing my best to reassure him, while also reassuring myself, that everything is going to be okay and that he WILL beat this lymphoma. ❤️

In a twist to our story, I talked to a high school classmate this morning who had no idea about David’s cancer diagnosis or my car accident earlier this year. Over and over, he kept expressing how tough we are and how much we’re battling right now.

He’s not wrong. We’ve certainly been handed more than our fair share lately. But as I told him, WE’VE GOT THIS! 💪 We’re keeping our chins up, finding the silver linings, and continuing to move forward one day at a time.

A few hours later, I was at physical therapy and shared a little about what’s been going on. My therapist was repeatedly shocked and left speechless by everything we’ve been dealing with.

I understand why both of them reacted the way they did, but it’s surreal to see our lives through someone else’s eyes. To them, it’s shocking. To us, it’s just life right now.

This is how David and I are learning to live: one day at a time, in the moment, and without regrets. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, so we’re choosing to make the most of today.

Life doesn’t always go according to plan. Sometimes it throws one hell of a punch. But we’ll keep showing up, keep fighting, keep finding reasons to laugh, and keep looking for that silver lining.

Because we’ve got this. Together. ❤️

Connect

© 2025. All rights reserved.