About this blog

I was diagnosed with breast cancer on June 11, 2010. As a result of my treatment, I have lymphedema in my left arm. I draw my strength from the Lord, as well as my family's Scots-Irish heritage. Our Graham's were a tough and scrappy bunch of fighters on the Scottish/English border. They came to America and continued to fight when necessary: in the American Revolution; the Civil War; and my brother is a Captain in the U.S. Army. My ancestors settled this country against all odds. My great-grandmothers on both sides of the family were pioneer women who settled the West. Along with that heritage, and the full armor of God, I am walking the walk and fighting the good fight.

Sunday, November 14, 2010


I'm letting myself crash today, and am going to do the same tomorrow.

I did manage to make it to church, which I'm really thankful for.  The worship was amazing, and I stood there with tears running down my face most of the time.  I couldn't sing without them flowing. When my lips weren't moving, my heart was singing, though. I am confident that regardless of the hardships of this life, there is such greater glory to come that we cannot even imagine.  I just basked in the thought of it all for several minutes, thankful for Jesus.  I was also thankful that Eric came and was standing there beside me.

But in this life, today, I am in a chemo crash. I'm not puking or anything. I'm tired, edgy, and not in the mood to communicate. I don't feel like taking care of other people right now.

Here are some guidelines on how to handle me during these few days. I reserve the right to add to this list in the future:

  1. Silence is okay.  I'm not mad.  I'm not trying to send some secret message between the lines.  I just don't feel like talking.  It's hard for me to put thoughts and words together for these few days.  So just let me sit here like a silent lump, okay?
  2. Don't engage me in debate. True, I usually am up to a good back and forth. Especially when it comes to topics I'm interested in.  But go back to rule #1.  Silence is golden right now.  Besides, I don't have the patience at the moment.  Even if the topic is "what is for dinner?" 
  3. Don't contradict me, even if I don't make sense.  Just let it be.  Cut me some slack, knowing that I'll come back to my senses in a few days.  
  4. Don't expect me to make sense.  
  5. Understand this--I love my husband and my kids a lot.  So if I seem like a bitchy, crabby beast around them, its not me, its the chemo.  I'm doing my best not to be that way. I don't want to use chemo as an excuse. But my patience is nil, and it is hard for me to follow even happy chirpy conversation.  Much less when I'm supposed to be participating.  I love them to death, I just can't deal with them very well at the moment.  Especially the whims of a 2 year old, God bless him. 
  6. Don't expect me to keep up around the house.  If I do manage to get a load of laundry done, or keep the kitchen clean, its a bonus. 
  7. Let me disappear into my room and hibernate for several hours if I choose to. 
  8. Don't get cranky at me if you can't sleep while I can.  Even if I am snoring.  I'm on chemo, for goodness sakes!  Go sleep on the couch if you must.  There have been plenty of situations when the roles have been reversed, and you didn't have chemo in the picture. 
  9. Remember that I love you, even if I'm crabby.
  10. This too, shall pass.

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