Having spent five days in Raleigh recovering from her third round of chemotherapy, Anne arrived back in Ocean Isle on Sunday. Boy are we glad to have her back. She was sorely missed, the children especially feeling it. 

I can definitely tell this round put a beating on her. She’s moving slower, sleeping more, and enduring higher levels of nausea than before. 

It made me think of her chemo regimen as a boxing match. She’s in the ring with a formidable opponent, and midway into the first round she gets a hard right to the left jaw. Knocks her back, stumbling. But she shakes it off, regains her composure, bounces back and finishes round 1. Rest in the corner. 

Round 2 is somewhat the same. The knocks come, but she stays on her feet, albeit wobbly at times from well-placed punches. 

Round 3 starts. She seems to be hanging tough – good bounce in her step – and then suddenly comes a hard blow to the head. Knocks her flat on her back. Conscious but visibly hurt, she staggers back to her feet. She fights her way through the round, but you can tell that blow took the wind out of her. 

Looking in, that’s my sense for how this round 3 is going for her. My Annie is hanging tough, but this last round brought a harder-hitting punch. 

I am really proud of my wife. She is doing it. Fighting.  Resting. Believing. Receiving. Rejoicing. Mourning. Loving. Clinging. Enduring. Hoping. Facing…the thief, the opponent in the ring. 

I wrote all of this while sitting beside her bed as she napped just now.  And I couldn’t wait to include this picture of her bedside table. It tells a story/paints a picture, but it doesn’t need my illumination. Here’s what you see:

• Four bottles of specially-filtered water
• Tums
• A tube of lip balm
• A book by Jim Gaffigan
• The Bible

 Don’t we love some Anne Fletcher?