Power Outages
My girl is doing quite well, though chemo saps her energy here and there. When she isn’t napping, she charges forward. She went to school most days this week. When she didn’t, it was because she had a hard time getting out of bed. Some days she sleeps until the afternoon. But on others, she rises early. Saturday, she was awake before me and she was quite proud when I came downstairs to find her pecking on her iPad.
–Who was the first one up, Dad?
The pace of treatment hasn’t sapped her spirit, though sometimes she is more reflective. And she worries about all of us. Luc came down with pneumonia this week. He is on the mend, but that didn’t stop Jordan from nagging him to dress warmer or drink enough water.
Rather than tell you about her present state, I’ll just share a few photos from the last week. And this little poem from Emily Dickinson that kept nagging me as I write about Jordan.
To be alive—is Power—
Existence—in itself—
Without a further function—
Omnipotence—Enough—To be alive—and Will!
‘Tis able as a God—
The Maker—of Ourselves—be what—
Such being Finitude!
Last weekend we drove to Palm Springs to visit my mom, who is staying in a house there for the month. We relaxed and lounged around between eating out. It was superb. Jordan enjoyed the visit.
Jordan is walking more and more. We only use the wheelchair when we know we’ll be out for a long while. Her feet show her effort. They are bruised and battered, but that doesn’t stop her. She loves taking off her shoes and letting her toes tickle the air.
She’s on at least a dozen medications, and that’s partly why she’s tired so much. Her new chemotherapy is a clinical trial that requires four different drugs. When traveling, Jeanette packs them all in a lunch box. Seeing them all in one place can be sobering. But Jordan doesn’t mind. As long as we serve the pills with chocolate milk, she’s cooperative. Better than the IV methods of the past.
Curled up in the hoodie and the fleece blanket is my girl. She sometimes fights the sleep, sitting up in a chair with her eyes battling gravity. I’ll ask her if she’s tired. “Nope!” she’ll say. Then her eyes droop down and her head nods. I usually have to pick her up and carry her to a sofa or her bed. She’ll never go on her own–she tries to convince herself that she’s not tired, and she does a pretty good job.
