“It’s like realizing my need for a savior before realizing Christ fills that need perfectly.”
Just thought I’d share part of a recent journal entry . . .
I’m in the chemo room, having rust-red iron drip into my veins, feeling woozy from the medicine injected beforehand, and looking around at those having chemo. I try to be furtive about it; it feels intrusive, like I’m gawking at their treatment or touring a third world slum, consoled by the thought that I can escape to my luxurious lifestyle by a bus trip or a plane ride across an ocean.
There’s an elderly woman, sleeping in a chair, her arm bruised at multiple places where the nurses have struggled to insert an IV. Another patient nods at my bag of fluids. “Iron?” When I say yeah, he says he’d had to have an iron infusion too; the chemo has depleted his iron levels.
My mom (who is with me) asks if his course of treatment is…
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