Dear Friends –
It’s the eve of All Saints Day, so let me offer my thankful heart for all the saints praying for me, day by day. I am very grateful for your thoughts, your cards, your compassion: it really makes a difference in my soul. I don’t know if you’ll have trick-or-treaters, but I hope you have some sort of sweet treat for yourself.
The latest round of chemotherapy (number 7 out of 12) started last Thursday. It has been a little rougher than previous ones. The cold sensitivity started faster and harder than usual: I couldn’t hold on to a glass of ice water at lunch, after finishing the main infusion of chemo Thursday morning. It’s also slower than usual to diminish. I have felt like I’ve been improving overall, with hard steady work at Physical Therapy over the last six months, but at today’s appointment I felt weak and, for a few minutes, mildly dizzy. The therapist is very attentive to situations like this, so she limited the exercises she assigned me to do. I usually finish the hour with five minutes on the treadmill, including a minute of jogging: today we agreed that I’d try to do five minutes, but all of it walking at low speed. So that’s what I did.
It’s easy to feel down and discouraged with all this. I’ve had a few moments when I’ve given in to feeling sorry for myself. Not a lot, but enough for me to notice that I’m focusing on the discomfort rather than on the grace. The side effects of chemotherapy treatments are not fun, but overall I have to say that I’m tolerating them with way less distress than many people have. And I’m confident that just as the presence of the Lord has strengthened and sustained me so many times in the past, he will continue to do so through all this cancer journey.
Meanwhile, it was 33° this morning as I headed to PT. I’m wearing a hat most of the time to try to keep the top of my head warm. We could see it out the window snowing hard for about five minutes, and some forecasters say we’ll end up with a dusting of accumulation and others say it could be six inches. Winter starts early in Michigan, and makes up for it by staying late. Oh, and look: it’s warmed up now to 36° already. Only six months to go till spring starts in May …
Thank you, again and always, for your prayers and support. May your day be filled with blessings.
Hold us, Jesus, now and forever –
james-ayers.com 
7 responses to “Prayer Letter #9”
I’ll continue praying for you, Jay. Wish I were close enough to give you a hug.
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Thanks so much, Jo!
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You are inspiring and we are praying mightily! Thank you for being a vital part of who I am as a minister. You sure helped to guide and encourage me! Thank you
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More than half way to the conclusion of treatment. Hope blood tests continue to be good numbers. Everyone in Michigan must be wearing hats by this month and you own some spiffy ones.
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Praying for you and Micaela. May the Lord keep you encouraged, give you grace, and bring healing in this treatment. May he continue to use you and hold you in the palm of his hand. Anne Harper
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Without the previous months of hard work at your physical therapy, any weakness that you now feel would surely have been much worse. So well done, my friend! I can imagine that apparent lack of progress is quite frustrating. But you correctly realize that this should not be your focal point! You are HERE and doing what you can do. And we, your dear friends, are also doing what we can do.
Thank you for including us in your journey, Jay!
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Jay
Glad to hear you are still tolerating the chemo. Please know you continue to be in our thoughts and prayers.
Wish we were closer so we could swing by and get the Wichita mafia back together for Catch Phrase and perhaps a wee dram of Scotch (but only if allowed, of course). Know that the Grace congregation is continuing to pray for you as well.
Bill
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