On Muffins, Coffee and God

Today I ate one third of a blueberry muffin, and last night, I was able to eat the frosting off a slice of cake.

I am over-the-moon excited about this, because lately my mouth has been so sore I thought I would be on the feeding tube/liquid diet forever.

In order to eat anything, I still have to use a special mouthwash first; it contains a numbing agent so that the food isn't excruciating on the way down. Sometimes this alters the taste of the food, but the food tasted right, too.  The frosting actually tasted like frosting, and the blueberry muffin tasted just the way I remembered.

The other big discovery this week is the return of coffee.  Ice coffee, to be precise - no cream or milk, because dairy still hurts, but dark roast ice coffee with extra sugar tastes divine.  I haven't had any coffee for about four months, so it also produces this kind of euphoric effect that I am very  much enjoying.

I needed these little shots-of-hope, because this past week has been really hard.  I was determined not to come here and complain anymore, so I waited for a good patch to blog.   I have come here enough to talk about fear and pain.  There is still a lot of fear, and a lot of pain.  But it's getting better.  Finally.

I am feeling something like hope every now and then. And this is HUGE.

I had a pre-surgery medical evaluation (CT Scan, EKG, anesthesia consult, etc.) and the CT Scan showed pneumonia in my upper right lung.  I have been reallllly tired, pretty much all the time, and a little feverish at night, but no coughing or anything, so this was a surprise to me.  I'm hoping the antibiotics they gave me for the pneumonia will kick in so I don't have to delay surgery, which is scheduled for April 4th.

Maybe part of my more hopeful mood has to do with a Healing Mass I went to on Wednesday night.  I'd never done anything like that before, and it was so peaceful, so breathtakingly serene.  As I opened my hands and turned my fear over to God, I felt a burden being lifted from me.  The Priest was very clear about how to pray, too, which was helpful for me.  I mentioned in my last post that I don't like to ask for anything specific because it feels selfish or wrong.   The Priest said, "Tell God exactly what you need.  If you need to be cured from cancer, pray to Him to be cured from cancer."

So I did.

I sat in the darkened church, opened my palms heavenward and prayed, "Please cure my cancer.  Please cure my cancer.  I'm so very scared, and my kids need me.  My husband needs me.  I'm not ready to go, yet.  Please cure my cancer."

I still feel a little itchy with the notion of asking God to cure me.  But it can't hurt to ask, right?  What happens to me is  not up to me, this much I do know, and all the worry and fear in the world isn't going to change the outcome.  So it felt good to have a little hope, a little faith.

Combine that with dark roast ice coffee and a blueberry muffin and you've got one happy girl.