A Neulasta Night

I had my first post-chemo blood draw yesterday, and my white blood cell count was ridiculously low (as expected). They should go back up quickly, though. The day after each round of treatment I get a shot called Neulasta which kicks blood cell production into overdrive.

Well, last night it kicked in. Of course, you probably know blood cells are made in the bone marrow. In particular the hip/pelvis bone is apparently a particularly rich production center. I went to bed with a pretty sore/achey lower back. I woke up an hour later with an excruciating, pulsing lower back pain. It lasted the whole night, and I didn't sleep until Kristen took the boys to school. It's not as excruciating right now, and I confirmed with my doctor that this is probably the Neulasta and it should get better quickly and shouldn't be as bad the next time around.

At it's worst, the only thought that kept running through my head was the words of Isaiah 53:3, describing the coming Messiah as a "man of sorrows, familiar with grief". I kept thinking about (too strong... perhaps grasping at) how God knows sorrow and grief. I looked it up this morning and the word for "sorrows" and "grief" are mostly commonly translated throughout the Old Testament as "pain" and "sickness".

What comfort, in the midst of pain and sickness, sorrow and grief, to look for a Messiah who himself is a man of sorrow and pain, intimately familiar with sickness and grief.

Kristen was super helpful and dug around for a pair of headphones so I could distract myself with some music. (She likes to remind me that music speaks to my soul.) As the edge came off the pain a bit, one song I listened to stuck out to me: the hymn "O Love that Will Not Let Me Go," by George Matheson (who himself was a man of sorrows, familiar with pain).

George Matheson

In particular, the third line: O Joy that seekest me through pain,

I cannot close my heart to thee;

I trace the rainbow through the rain,

And feel the promise is not vain,

That morn shall tearless be.

There is a joy that seeks us out in the midst of pain. And in him, the man of sorrows, familiar with grief, every tear will be wiped away. "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning." (Psalm 30:5)