Today is Day Seven. Of my twenty-one days, the hardest are Day Four, Day Five, Day Six and Day Seven. Last time, I was so weak from the Avastin that Reed had to help me walk for two of these days. My body continually ached. I am so thankful I did not have the Avastin and my body is dealing with just the chemo. It is going so much better for my body. I try to keep active and physically move around each day to keep up my strength. On these days of weakness, there is no strength. No reserves. It takes all the energy I have to walk up six steps to get to the upper part of my home. I feel one of those deep-sea divers walking in a lead suit at the bottom of the ocean. Each step gets harder and heavier. I just need to spend the day sitting down. That is not a horrible way to spend the day. I wonder what is it that happens in my body that zaps my strength. What are the chemo drugs doing? The worst of this round should be passed. From here to the next treatment, I will regain strength each day and feel quite normal. I can do this.

Our garden and our flower beds have been my refuge these last months. After my surgery in June, I was not able to pull a weed or pick a vegetable. I walked a short distance each day. Happy to walk a few hundred feet in the sunshine. I took photographs of the same flowers every day because that is all the farther I could walk. But it was my physical and mental and spiritual therapy. Morning by morning I was able to do more, walk farther, stretch in new ways. Soon I could pick cucumbers with Reed. There were victories over the weeds, I could hoe and pull them. I could walk to the mailbox by the road. I could walk all around the fence line that surrounds our farm. I could spend the entire days outside. On days like today, instead of feeling sorry for myself, I try to remind myself how very, very far I have come in the last six months. How blessed am I to have a garden where the angels can dance?