Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah is beautiful in so many ways. That melancholy tune kept running through my head following this past chemo session.
The last round of chemo hit me hard. I returned home on Tuesday, went to bed and stayed there until Saturday. On Sunday, I moved to the sofa and parked myself there. I had a lot of pain, some bleeding, and a phenomenal amount of head fuzziness. I couldn’t think, read (even emails), watch TV, or knit. I could barely speak and I certainly couldn’t carry on a conversation. I hadn’t eaten since Monday, surviving on ice chips and small sips of water. My body had pains I never thought it could have.
I wondered if my body was at the beginning of a final downhill slide. My weight was lower than ever and I looked skeletal.
I had been absent from the family for so long that the kids were losing their grounding. My husband does a great job of being father and mother during my chemo weeks, but it is all-consuming. He needed the weekend to get some work done and maybe even exercise, but that wasn’t going to happen.
Plus, I haven’t had those huge messages from God and the angels that I used to have. I still believed they were out there, but I didn’t feel connected. When I looked at my life, I couldn’t find a sliver of anything I wanted, and I wondered in many ways what death would be like. My thoughts and emotions were dark.
As I lay in bed late one night, the lyrics to Hallelujah again ran an endless loop through my head. I decide to listen to the Leonard Cohen version one more time and as I did, suddenly noticed these words, which lifted me:
And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
Yes. Because even through all this crap: Hallelujah.
I started to look for the blessings. I had to really look, but I was, indeed, getting a little better each day. Not as fast as I would like, but definitely improvement. It was a start.
This cancer path makes everything feel like it is just wrong: This isn’t the life I was supposed to be living. It felt broken and crappy but I had to admit, I am still grateful for it.
Even though all this felt so very wrong, if I were to stand before the Lord at that very minute, I like to think that I would still say, Hallelujah.
Love and light,
(Those lyrics are around 6:10 on the video.)