Fatigue should not be confused with tiredness. If you are tired, you can sleep and feel refreshed. Fatigue is unaffected by sleep. Following my radiation treatments in April of 2023 I found myself miserable and on the couch with my eyes closed most of all of two weeks. I’m kinda in the same boat this year with chemo pills.
My cousin twice, Marion, was right when she told me the only thing to ward off fatigue is to get up and do something. It’s not the easiest thing to do especially in cold weather.
All the nurses told me I should try and do as many normal things as possible during and after treatment. Sometime in March, I found the strength to start some transplants for my garden. Because of the way I felt, I had resigned myself to NOT being able to do farmers markets in the summer.
But, I was determined to plant a garden. It is in my garden that I forget I have lung cancer. I know that God waits for me in the quiet of the early morning. Caring for the plants, ripping out the weeds and listening to the sound of the insects buzzing around is like the Balm of Gilead. And, I must can my famous salsa for the grandchildren, Especially Oliver.
My brother, who was in shock about my diagnosis so soon after my dad’s death in September, promised he would help me with the garden. So I took him up on it.
It must have been sometime in May that we decided on a work day. He enjoys camping at Sibley Park and decided to spend a little time around a campfire too. The weather was beautiful, the snow was finally gone and there was much to do.
No longer the early bird, I sat out on the irrigation pump installation. We are so fortunate to be able to water the garden from a small trickle of Missouri River water that runs by our property. I attribute my gardening success to the fish-poop-fertilized water from what we lovingly call the ditch. It’s nearly across from Double Ditch, so appropriately named.
After the pump, we, or should I say, Curt, laid down some new landscape fabric around the outside of the two tunnels to discourage the grass from growing inside the tunnels. They love the sunny atmosphere and usually beat any weeds that might be thinking of growing.
Then, JC showed him how to run the Grillo walking tractor with the harrow attachment. That piece of equipment is a beast, and I think neither one of them wants to ever have to do that again. So, I will need some help this year. He was more than happy to supervise as Curt shuffled up the beds in the tunnel. I was excited. It meant we were so close to being ready to plant.
Now, it was my turn to help. You can’t plant anything until it has water. To water, you need to hook up the irrigation unit.
Laying the irrigation tape from the water source along the 90-foot garden beds requires walking up and down the tunnel on the narrow boards we use for paths between rows of tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, zinnias, sunflowers, and whatever else I can get planted. You see, I don’t like people walking where I am going to plant, it compacts the soil.
So, with Curt at the east end of the tunnel, I did the walking down to the other end with the drip tape, securing the ends while he hooked the other end to the individual spigots. It was getting to be mid-afternoon and warm inside the plastic bubble.
I was beginning to wear out. Curt wouldn’t allow that. He had to go home the next day and wanted to finish the job. So, he reminded me of one of his favorite movies, Hacksaw Ridge. With each return trip to grab another line, he would say, “Just one more.”
So together, despite the exhaustion, we finished our job with “just one more.”
What Desmond Doss did in that story was more admirable and important to the world than finishing an irrigation system. Because of Doss’ bravery dozens of men, otherwise presumed dead, were saved during the Battle of Okinawa at Hacksaw Ridge. It brings tears to my eyes.
But, it gives one the courage to keep going when times are tough, no matter the circumstances.
While it did not require much bravery to finish my garden projects, it made me think about fighting back the fatigue and beginning to live a “normal” life again. Whenever I feel like giving up, I say to myself, “Just one more.” Seriously, I can’t get it out of my head.
Recently, as I work on my grandchildren’s Easter baskets, I smile and think about a book I read many years ago following the same theme.
“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.” Remember that?
I almost changed the title of this post to “The Little Engine That Could.”
PS: If you put enough butter on a bowl of peas, they taste like lobster.
INDYchildrendotme 
Leave a comment