On the threshhold of my final week of chemotherapy, I am rejoicing.

Outside my window the new maple leaves glow and the fresh wind bobbles the heads of a million dandelions. Perched at my computer chair indoors, I'm savoring a last mug of coffee before my dose of cisplatin makes it detestable to my tastebuds, and Janie is sniffing my slippers. It feels as though every cell in my body is chanting the refrain that has intertwined with my routines since I woke: One week more! One week more of a needle-plugged arm vein, of kidney flushing saline, of black fatigue and the threat of nausea. One more period of wasting away, and gradual recovery. Only one week more.

A friend recently described the past few months of tumor, operation, recovery, and chemotherapy by using Sheldon Van Auken's beautiful phrase: "a severe mercy." As I reflect on my experience, however, I begin to think that severe is too severe a word. Indeed, much as I have lamented my bald head and frail body, I cannot but compare my own lot to the lot of others I encountered in the chemo ward, or even to my own expectations as I entered into this valley. My time of disease has been comparatively brief, my ordeal quite mild. I am blessed that, in this particular scuffle, it was the cancer that proved to be short-lived. And I gained more than I lost.

Emerging from the valley, I feel myself undeservedly enriched. My weakness has shown God's strength to be perfect, his grace all-sufficient--indeed, overabundant! My dependance has been an ideal stage to showcase the surprising and steadfast love of my loved ones. I have faced my own physical and spiritual helplessness, and known that even so, God has delighted to save me to the uttermost.

I find myself turning toward the future with a hope sweetened by proof of my Savior's kindness, and hands eager to demonstrate my gratitude.

My Etherial Gain

My first well Day - since many ill -
I asked to go abroad,
And take the Sunshine in my hands,
And see the things in Pod -

A'blossom just when I went in
To take my Chance with pain -
Uncertain if myself, or He,
Should prove the strongest One.

---

My loss, by sickness - Was it Loss?
Or that Etherial Gain
One earns by measuring the Grave -
Then - measuring the Sun -

[Emily Dickinson]