I really need to go.

This is the third week since my first rchop and today, I really need to go. 

The first time it took seven days.  That was too long.  Way too long, but I was able to go on my own. 

The next week I discovered chemo sometimes turns off the digestive system and, I made a new friend.  Her name is Margarete but I get to call her Peggy.  She is a nurse and my "poop friend".  That's what we call it.   I haven't met Peggy yet but today that could change.  So far we have just been chatting on the phone.  I hope you get a clear vision of discussing these most personal of bodily functions with a perfect stranger.  Any sense of dignity is erased when your digestive system refuses to cooperate.  By the way it's toxic I am told, yes, more so than usual.    

Peggy talked me through the second weeks happening.  That is when I saw the face of God, in a blinding flash, right there in the downstairs bathroom.  It was also the day my mother died.  It's true, ya can't make this shit up.

Today, a shipment is due.  It is 48 hours past due as a matter of fact and that is why I get to call work & let em' know I won't be in today.  Here are Peggy's orders of the day.  

#1, No food today. 

#2, Water. Ive already drank a gallon of water and it's only 7 AM. 

#3, Exercise. I already went for my walk, it was not raining.

#4, Aisle 4A at Rite-Aid.  There are at least two hundred different remedies and cures for sale on the shelf.  I get to try them all this morning, at home and on my own.  Then,

#5, If nothing happens by noon, today, ............................. I get to meet Peggy.  She is looking forward to it I'm sure.  Who wouldn't be? 

So, as you can see my day is pretty much set in cement.  I choose to face it with dignity and prayer.  Lots of prayers.  I'll be blessing all the saints today.  

The part I am looking forward to again is the blinding flash.  It was warming, (so to speak), and a perfectly enveloping white light, delivered in complete silence and it was gone in a wink.  The voice was more of a hollow echo, a memory like after taste.  There were no words exchanged rather an idea conveyed. 

It said, "you're Mom & Dad have not quit dancing since she got here." 

That was the vision I had. 

If I get to meet Peggy today I will share my vision with her too.  What do you think the odds are she has heard it all a thousand times before?