I woke up this morning and was enjoying the warmth of snuggling with Steve in bed, when a jolt of panic coursed from head to toe. I have only one week until my next treatment.

I am still tired today. Last treatment cycle, I was feeling quite well by this time. The new pattern is that I have a burst of energy and am able to act normally and then all of a sudden I am too tired. And while I am resting, my mind is going a mile a minute, planning all the things I want to and should do, but when I stand up, I find that my body doesn't want to fall in with my mind's plans. So this morning, I showered and washed my hair -- well, my head anyway-- and called to Steve that at least my hair wouldn't take all day to dry, and dressed and ate breakfast and badgered little boys to find their shoes. When it was time to go, my body said very firmly that under no circumstances was it willing to cooperate with any scheme involving walking. So we drove to church. What a waste.

Sitting in fast and testimony meeting was enough to convince my body that walking could be tolerated, so I was making my way to primary when Ann stopped me in the hall. She said that this morning Linford got up and was lounging and wiggling and moaning about being hungry, and she told him that he didn't have to fast, but that if he chose something or someone to fast for, then when he felt hungry he could think about that thing or person and it would help him fast. He was quiet for a minute and then asked, "Do people die from cancer?" Ann said that sometimes they do and sometimes they don't. Linford said, "Can I fast for Janice?"

I started crying at that point. It seems incredible that a little boy would even think about me when he was hungry, and be concerned that I might die, and decide to ask Heavenly Father to honor his fasting by blessing me. I feel humble that I am important to Linford. I know that other people are praying for me too, and I am amazed that I even matter to them, and that I matter to God, for I have been shown that I do.

Underlying everything that is happening right now is a core of strength inside that I know is not me. I use that strength and rely on it many times each day. The thought of doing what I'm doing without that core seems dark and cold and ominous. How do I matter to God that He would give me such a vital gift right at this time?

Choir practice was better this week. My eyes didn't lag behind and I could follow what was going on with less effort, but my hat was bugging me, so finally I just took it off. Barry's voice piped up from the back, "I love it when she plays with the top down." Everyone laughed. I can see the similarity, although I have no long tresses for the wind to blow when I'm "playing" with my convertible's top down!

Bapu and Haruka and James came to enjoy Chris's dinner with us. Chris and Steve had made the pies, and Chris made his favorite beef stroganoff, which we tripled. It wasn't enough, though, because when Nanika showed up, the pan was empty. Luckily, she was happy with pie. I was thrilled that the beef stroganoff tasted like beef stroganoff!