Sweet Peas

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Little J and I took a colander out to the garden yesterday. Under a grey sky, we dug through the brambly tendrils and leaves of the sweet pea vines and pulled at the plump pods.

We gathered quite a bounty and sat down at the table to pop the pods open, one by one. I showed J how to slide a finger down the center of each, pulling fresh peas from the smooth bellies of their sweet, green homes.

The process soothed me. I’ve had a lot weighing on me. As we search for a clinical trial for my next round of treatment, we struggle to stay positive. PARP trials fill up between the time I hear about them and call about them. Many trials are closed to me because of my “heavy pre-treatment.”

When I dig my nail into the flesh of the pea pod, I am awed by the humble work of nature By simply waiting in the dirt and drawing in sun, water, and nutrients, the pea pod grew a thick skin and vibrant, watery flesh that now fills up the space beneath my nails and fingertips as I scrape.

I long for the perfect health of this simple, green plant. It takes in goodness. It gives out sweetness. Like the little boy across from me, it is pure from the inside out, nothing eating away at it. They are whole.

I still have faith that something will bring me back to that place: the right trial, Doxil. Something.

More importantly, there is faith. Enough faith to seed and grow plants and flowers to fill all of Sugartown. That has to be worth something.

Hugs,
Jennifer

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