Last night was the first night I have spent alone since my chemo on June 18th.  It felt good to be alone in my little house but also a little unsettling.  It is during these few days that I seem to have the hardest time emotionally.  The chemo and the sickness behind me–another battle won–now it is time to relax and prepare for battle again.

The chemo treatments are 21 days apart.  It seems like a long time but by the time you get over being sick and fatigued there is only a week to go before the next treatment.  It seems odd, but this is the time when “it” seems real.  In the heat of the battle, there really isn’t time to think.  Now, the mind starts thinking: You have cancer. What does it mean? Will it come back? The armor is off and in need of repair.  This is a vulnerable time.

Seems odd, huh?  You would think that it would be during the chemo and sickness that I would feel that vulnerability.  But you see, that is when the armor is at its strongest.  The time that I am ready for the battle.   This is a battle of another kind.  A battle against myself.  A struggle between depression and joy, both of which I know well.

When my goats were attacked by the dogs, I cried to Kim, Lorene, and Sylvia that I had lost my joy.  Sitting on my porch watching those crazy goats brings me a lot of joy.  I am just a country girl; I like being outside and watching the world.  Not the world of traffic and people hurrying by but the world of nature–the birds, the bugs, the rabbits, the squirrels–just all the critters that surround me in my little world.  Sitting in the swing on the porch, being surrounded by the things I love and watching the goats that I bottle-fed from a day old: That brings me joy deep down in my soul.

The night they were attacked and we took them back to the barn I said, “I have lost my joy.”  But three of the four survived and they are back home with me now. They have changed and so have I.  All three have suffered injuries; Javier limps, Tupelo has a hole across the bridge of his nose, and Honey Badger still has wounds and does not have the use of one of his legs.

But this morning, I sat on the porch and watched the three of them in the yard.  As they hobbled about, I again felt that joy.  Not the same as before, because now we all have been changed forever. But still a joy.  We are here and we are alive and we are together. That brings me joy.

So my life has been changed forever.  Hearing the words “You have cancer” changed my life.  Took away a little of the joy.  But I am still here and I know that the joy will return.  Might not be the same, but it will return.  I do believe that it takes going through darkness to know what joy really is.  So I will work through this upcoming week and prepare not only my body armor but also my mind, heart, and soul for the next test.