Monday, December 7, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
My Lamentation
"I am the man who has seen affliction by the rod of his wrath.
He has driven me away and made me walk in darkness rather than light;
Indeed, he has turned his hand against me again and again, all day long.
He has made my skin and my flesh grow old and has broken my bones.
He has besieged me and surrounded me with bitterness and hardship.
He has made me dwell in darkness like those long dead.
He has walled me in so I cannot escape;
he has weighed me down with chains.
Even when I call out or cry for help, he shuts out my prayer.
He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
He has made my paths crooked.
Like a bear lying in wait, like a lion in hiding,
He dragged me from the path and mangled me and left me without help.
He drew his bow and made me the target for his arrows.
He pierced my heart with arrows from his quiver.
I became the laughingstock of all my people;
They mock me in song all day long.
He has filled me with bitter herbs and sated me with gall.
He has broken my teeth with gravel;
He has trampled me in the dust.
I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.
So I say, “My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the Lord.”
I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
For his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
Great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
Therefore I will wait for him.”
The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him;
It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord."
~ Lamentations 3:1-26
He has driven me away and made me walk in darkness rather than light;
Indeed, he has turned his hand against me again and again, all day long.
He has made my skin and my flesh grow old and has broken my bones.
He has besieged me and surrounded me with bitterness and hardship.
He has made me dwell in darkness like those long dead.
He has walled me in so I cannot escape;
he has weighed me down with chains.
Even when I call out or cry for help, he shuts out my prayer.
He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
He has made my paths crooked.
Like a bear lying in wait, like a lion in hiding,
He dragged me from the path and mangled me and left me without help.
He drew his bow and made me the target for his arrows.
He pierced my heart with arrows from his quiver.
I became the laughingstock of all my people;
They mock me in song all day long.
He has filled me with bitter herbs and sated me with gall.
He has broken my teeth with gravel;
He has trampled me in the dust.
I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.
So I say, “My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the Lord.”
I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
For his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
Great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
Therefore I will wait for him.”
The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him;
It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord."
~ Lamentations 3:1-26
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Be Strong and Courageous
I woke up this morning very much so still processing the news from my last appointment. Again, it's going to take a while...
Then I got an email from a dear friend, which ended with the exhortation, "be strong and courageous." That immediately drove me to the book of Joshua, chapter one to be exact. After Moses died, Joshua took on the responsibility of leading the Israelites into the Promised Land. It was a big task, way bigger than Joshua was feeling prepared for, I'm sure - but the Lord knew that and yet he still called him to it.
What's encouraging about this story is how many times Joshua was challenged to be strong and courageous. Four different times in his calling he was reminded to be strong and courageous. He must have really needed to hear that, don't you think? The thing that struck me upon my reading of this passage in the context of what I'm facing is the reason why God called him to be strong and courageous... because the Lord his God was going to be with him wherever he went!
That nearly drove me to tears. God encouraged Joshua with the truth that he would be with him throughout his journey, no matter how unprepared he felt... no matter how scary or difficult it might have been. He didn't have to be terrified. He didn't have to be discouraged. Whatever his calling would bring, God would be right there with him to see him through it.
As much as I'd like to opt out of the journey that's ahead of me, I know that I don't have to be terrified and I don't have to be discouraged either... because God will be with me wherever this life may take me.
So with that thought in mind, I put my feet to the floor this morning determined to face at least this set of twenty four hours with faith in the fact that God has a purpose for me in this day and with appreciation for the fact that I even have this day. It doesn't mean that my life has suddenly become all sunshine and roses. I'm still wrestling with some really tough things. I just got the reminder I needed the most this morning... God will be with me through it all!
Joshua 1:9 - "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."
Then I got an email from a dear friend, which ended with the exhortation, "be strong and courageous." That immediately drove me to the book of Joshua, chapter one to be exact. After Moses died, Joshua took on the responsibility of leading the Israelites into the Promised Land. It was a big task, way bigger than Joshua was feeling prepared for, I'm sure - but the Lord knew that and yet he still called him to it.
What's encouraging about this story is how many times Joshua was challenged to be strong and courageous. Four different times in his calling he was reminded to be strong and courageous. He must have really needed to hear that, don't you think? The thing that struck me upon my reading of this passage in the context of what I'm facing is the reason why God called him to be strong and courageous... because the Lord his God was going to be with him wherever he went!
That nearly drove me to tears. God encouraged Joshua with the truth that he would be with him throughout his journey, no matter how unprepared he felt... no matter how scary or difficult it might have been. He didn't have to be terrified. He didn't have to be discouraged. Whatever his calling would bring, God would be right there with him to see him through it.
As much as I'd like to opt out of the journey that's ahead of me, I know that I don't have to be terrified and I don't have to be discouraged either... because God will be with me wherever this life may take me.
So with that thought in mind, I put my feet to the floor this morning determined to face at least this set of twenty four hours with faith in the fact that God has a purpose for me in this day and with appreciation for the fact that I even have this day. It doesn't mean that my life has suddenly become all sunshine and roses. I'm still wrestling with some really tough things. I just got the reminder I needed the most this morning... God will be with me through it all!
Joshua 1:9 - "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."
Friday, December 4, 2009
My Life is a Mist - An Update
I finished my second round of chemo and had another scan recently. I got the results yesterday and as always, it was a mixed bag.
Overall, my doctor is really thrilled with my progress - Let's start with that.
This scan showed that there is still no visible cancer in my abdomen. Even better, it showed that all the nodules in my lungs, with one exception, have completely disappeared! The one nodule that is there is about 8 mm and my doctor thinks that there's a chance it may not even be cancerous. We're going to wait until my next scan and see how it looks at that time. If it's grown, then it's definitely cancer and we'll absolutely have to talk about more chemo after radiation. As it stands now, we may still consider some chemo after radiation anyway. I'll just have to wait and see what my doctor decides when we get to that point.
In addition to that one nodule in my lung, a new abnormal spot showed up in my right groin. My doctor said that it doesn't make any sense that new cancer would show up in that location at this point, so he's thinking that it may not be cancer related at all. Again, we're going to wait until my next scan and see what it looks like at that time to determine if it's anything that we need to address. For now, I'm cleared to start radiation next week.
So, again, my doctor is really pleased with these latest results overall.
Now with the end of treatment becoming more and more of a possibility for me in the coming months, I had some additional questions that needed some answering. Those answers brought some sobering truths to light.
Allow me to let you in on the conversation that ensued yesterday between me and my doctor. The following are the questions I asked and a summary of the answers I received:
1) How many women diagnosed with uterine cancer are stage 4?
A very low percentage... less than 10%.
2) Of that number of women diagnosed with stage 4 uterine cancer, how many go into remission?
Almost none.
3) Early in my treatment plan, we had discussed the statistics that I'm facing with this diagnosis. I have a 15-20% chance of surviving past five years. Does that statistic change if I go into remission?
No. So few women with stage 4 uterine cancer go into remission that there simply aren't statistics out there for that... so the reality remains the same - a 15-20% five year survival rate. However, I don't like to consider statistics that much because each individual case is so unique.
4) If I go into remission and then my cancer returns, is it true that it will be even more aggressive than before?
No, that's a misnomer. When cancer returns, in time it becomes more and more resilient to treatment. That's what makes people think it's more "aggressive". It's not really that, it's just that it eventually doesn't respond to treatment as well.
5) If I go into remission and then my cancer returns, does that automatically mean more surgery for me?
No. For you, in fact, it most likely won't mean surgery unless we find a mass that is particularly resectable. In your case, you'll most likely be looking at more chemotherapy.
Then the conversation got really... let's say, interesting. My doctor began to explain something to me that I wasn't altogether prepared to hear. It seems that my cancer is so aggressive and advanced that I should expect it to return in the future. It may be ten months or it may be ten years - there's no way of knowing. That's why we'll be doing regular check-ups all the time. The reality I have to accept is that I have a chronic disease that I'll be dealing with for the rest of my life - however long that may be. He said I'll be in and out of treatment from here forward. Our goal will be to keep me out of treatment more than I'm in treatment. However, the reality is that at some point, the cancer will return and be resilient to treatment and we'll eventually have to cross that bridge when we come to it.
Sigh... I've often joked that I have to remember that there is a light at the end of this tunnel... I just hope that it's not an oncoming freight train! As I sat looking into the confident and comforting eyes of my doctor trying to absorb all this new news, I still couldn't shake the feeling that for now the light seems much more like a freight train than ever before. I mean, what a paradigm shift! It seems far too often that I have to wrap my head around a little more of the reality of just how severe my cancer is. I knew that I'd have to learn to live with the "what if" questions for the rest of my life. I just wasn't expecting to be told in so many words that I can expect to die from this disease barring some other odd thing happening.
To be honest, In some small way I'm glad to have a framework with which to face the future. In a strange way, it's easier than facing the unknowns and questions. I'm also glad that I can feel secure in my eternity! It's such a comfort to know that I'm facing something better than this life after I die. It's all the stuff in between that I've still got to sort out. For now, I'm trying to push another reality to the front of my mind. You see, as much as it's true that I can expect my cancer to come back, it's just as true that I have beaten the odds in spectacular fashion so far! I attribute that unequivocally to the prayer of God's people and the power of his hand in my life. God has done a miraculous work in my body through the wisdom of my doctor and the advances of medical technology. It is in the face of the bleakest of circumstances that God has always worked the most amazingly, so there's no reason to lose hope that he will continue to work wonders in my future.
I know that, either way, my life is merely "a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes" (James 4:14). In fact, this is true of all our lives. Each day is a gift, not a guarantee. Tomorrow is promised to none of us. It's just that we do such a good job of pushing that reality aside. For me, there can no longer be any more pushing aside. From here on in, I have to find a way to live comfortably in the reality of my mortality and the fragility of my life. Psalm 139:16 says, "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." I know God has a plan for my life, no matter how long or difficult it may be. He knows the number of my days and he has a purpose for each of them. Here's the thing, though... some days, God's truths, like this one, are a tremendous comfort to me; some days, I still have to convince myself of them. Today is definitely a convincing sort of day.
I know one thing for sure: It's going to take some time for me to process all this and shift into a new framework of thinking. For now, I'm just trying to breathe...
Overall, my doctor is really thrilled with my progress - Let's start with that.
This scan showed that there is still no visible cancer in my abdomen. Even better, it showed that all the nodules in my lungs, with one exception, have completely disappeared! The one nodule that is there is about 8 mm and my doctor thinks that there's a chance it may not even be cancerous. We're going to wait until my next scan and see how it looks at that time. If it's grown, then it's definitely cancer and we'll absolutely have to talk about more chemo after radiation. As it stands now, we may still consider some chemo after radiation anyway. I'll just have to wait and see what my doctor decides when we get to that point.
In addition to that one nodule in my lung, a new abnormal spot showed up in my right groin. My doctor said that it doesn't make any sense that new cancer would show up in that location at this point, so he's thinking that it may not be cancer related at all. Again, we're going to wait until my next scan and see what it looks like at that time to determine if it's anything that we need to address. For now, I'm cleared to start radiation next week.
So, again, my doctor is really pleased with these latest results overall.
Now with the end of treatment becoming more and more of a possibility for me in the coming months, I had some additional questions that needed some answering. Those answers brought some sobering truths to light.
Allow me to let you in on the conversation that ensued yesterday between me and my doctor. The following are the questions I asked and a summary of the answers I received:
1) How many women diagnosed with uterine cancer are stage 4?
A very low percentage... less than 10%.
2) Of that number of women diagnosed with stage 4 uterine cancer, how many go into remission?
Almost none.
3) Early in my treatment plan, we had discussed the statistics that I'm facing with this diagnosis. I have a 15-20% chance of surviving past five years. Does that statistic change if I go into remission?
No. So few women with stage 4 uterine cancer go into remission that there simply aren't statistics out there for that... so the reality remains the same - a 15-20% five year survival rate. However, I don't like to consider statistics that much because each individual case is so unique.
4) If I go into remission and then my cancer returns, is it true that it will be even more aggressive than before?
No, that's a misnomer. When cancer returns, in time it becomes more and more resilient to treatment. That's what makes people think it's more "aggressive". It's not really that, it's just that it eventually doesn't respond to treatment as well.
5) If I go into remission and then my cancer returns, does that automatically mean more surgery for me?
No. For you, in fact, it most likely won't mean surgery unless we find a mass that is particularly resectable. In your case, you'll most likely be looking at more chemotherapy.
Then the conversation got really... let's say, interesting. My doctor began to explain something to me that I wasn't altogether prepared to hear. It seems that my cancer is so aggressive and advanced that I should expect it to return in the future. It may be ten months or it may be ten years - there's no way of knowing. That's why we'll be doing regular check-ups all the time. The reality I have to accept is that I have a chronic disease that I'll be dealing with for the rest of my life - however long that may be. He said I'll be in and out of treatment from here forward. Our goal will be to keep me out of treatment more than I'm in treatment. However, the reality is that at some point, the cancer will return and be resilient to treatment and we'll eventually have to cross that bridge when we come to it.
Sigh... I've often joked that I have to remember that there is a light at the end of this tunnel... I just hope that it's not an oncoming freight train! As I sat looking into the confident and comforting eyes of my doctor trying to absorb all this new news, I still couldn't shake the feeling that for now the light seems much more like a freight train than ever before. I mean, what a paradigm shift! It seems far too often that I have to wrap my head around a little more of the reality of just how severe my cancer is. I knew that I'd have to learn to live with the "what if" questions for the rest of my life. I just wasn't expecting to be told in so many words that I can expect to die from this disease barring some other odd thing happening.
To be honest, In some small way I'm glad to have a framework with which to face the future. In a strange way, it's easier than facing the unknowns and questions. I'm also glad that I can feel secure in my eternity! It's such a comfort to know that I'm facing something better than this life after I die. It's all the stuff in between that I've still got to sort out. For now, I'm trying to push another reality to the front of my mind. You see, as much as it's true that I can expect my cancer to come back, it's just as true that I have beaten the odds in spectacular fashion so far! I attribute that unequivocally to the prayer of God's people and the power of his hand in my life. God has done a miraculous work in my body through the wisdom of my doctor and the advances of medical technology. It is in the face of the bleakest of circumstances that God has always worked the most amazingly, so there's no reason to lose hope that he will continue to work wonders in my future.
I know that, either way, my life is merely "a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes" (James 4:14). In fact, this is true of all our lives. Each day is a gift, not a guarantee. Tomorrow is promised to none of us. It's just that we do such a good job of pushing that reality aside. For me, there can no longer be any more pushing aside. From here on in, I have to find a way to live comfortably in the reality of my mortality and the fragility of my life. Psalm 139:16 says, "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." I know God has a plan for my life, no matter how long or difficult it may be. He knows the number of my days and he has a purpose for each of them. Here's the thing, though... some days, God's truths, like this one, are a tremendous comfort to me; some days, I still have to convince myself of them. Today is definitely a convincing sort of day.
I know one thing for sure: It's going to take some time for me to process all this and shift into a new framework of thinking. For now, I'm just trying to breathe...
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Giving Thanks
Tonight I went to a Thanksgiving service at my church where testimonies of thankfulness were shared. Here's what was on my heart and what I shared:
This has been the hardest year of my adult life… and the darkest year I’ve experienced since I believed in Jesus as my Savior. It was a year ago this very week that I began to experience what would become debilitating pelvic pain that eventually led to a diagnosis of stage 4 uterine cancer. What followed has been a near yearlong journey through chemotherapy, major surgery, and more chemotherapy with radiation soon to come.
Since last Thanksgiving, I’ve felt more sick than I’ve ever felt in my life and I’ve been more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life. I learned that my doctor wasn’t sure I’d even make it when he saw how bad my cancer was in the beginning… and to add to that, I learned that statistically I face a mere 15-20% chance of even surviving the next 5 years. Needless to say, I’ve spent this year struggling with more questions and fears than I ever imagined I would in my lifetime… and I’ve wrestled with some very deep and dark emotions.
I certainly don’t feel like being thankful this Thanksgiving. Yet I find myself unable to deny that I still have a lot to be thankful for.
- I’m thankful that my church elders have even bothered to keep me on staff through all this.
- I’m thankful that God provided the best GYN oncologist in the northeast to care for me.
- I’m thankful that God has worked through medical advances and the prayer of his people to heal my body of cancer almost completely in less than a year.
- I’m thankful that I’ve been given the opportunity to share how I've experienced the love of God with people I never would have met if I hadn’t gotten cancer.
- I’m thankful that no matter how hard it is to face each day, God always gives me just the grace and strength I need to get through it.
- I’m thankful that I can see God using this tremendously difficult time in my life to transform me into something far different than I was before.
- But most of all, I’m thankful that I have come to see and know God in ways I never could have apart from such a long and difficult trial: He has proven his faithfulness to me over and over again… even when I’m not feeling so faithful myself. He has shown me how very deep the rivers of his comfort are when I am hurting in ways that I can’t even express. He has affirmed over and over that he has a purpose in everything that I’ve faced… and that if I woke up this morning, he has a purpose for me in this day.
- Most importantly, He has proven the promises of his Word to be a strong and true foundation to cling to. Isaiah 43:2-3, for example, has meant a lot to me over the past year - "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior."
This has been the hardest year of my adult life… and the darkest year I’ve experienced since I believed in Jesus as my Savior. It was a year ago this very week that I began to experience what would become debilitating pelvic pain that eventually led to a diagnosis of stage 4 uterine cancer. What followed has been a near yearlong journey through chemotherapy, major surgery, and more chemotherapy with radiation soon to come.
Since last Thanksgiving, I’ve felt more sick than I’ve ever felt in my life and I’ve been more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life. I learned that my doctor wasn’t sure I’d even make it when he saw how bad my cancer was in the beginning… and to add to that, I learned that statistically I face a mere 15-20% chance of even surviving the next 5 years. Needless to say, I’ve spent this year struggling with more questions and fears than I ever imagined I would in my lifetime… and I’ve wrestled with some very deep and dark emotions.
I certainly don’t feel like being thankful this Thanksgiving. Yet I find myself unable to deny that I still have a lot to be thankful for.
- I’m thankful that my church elders have even bothered to keep me on staff through all this.
- I’m thankful that God provided the best GYN oncologist in the northeast to care for me.
- I’m thankful that God has worked through medical advances and the prayer of his people to heal my body of cancer almost completely in less than a year.
- I’m thankful that I’ve been given the opportunity to share how I've experienced the love of God with people I never would have met if I hadn’t gotten cancer.
- I’m thankful that no matter how hard it is to face each day, God always gives me just the grace and strength I need to get through it.
- I’m thankful that I can see God using this tremendously difficult time in my life to transform me into something far different than I was before.
- But most of all, I’m thankful that I have come to see and know God in ways I never could have apart from such a long and difficult trial: He has proven his faithfulness to me over and over again… even when I’m not feeling so faithful myself. He has shown me how very deep the rivers of his comfort are when I am hurting in ways that I can’t even express. He has affirmed over and over that he has a purpose in everything that I’ve faced… and that if I woke up this morning, he has a purpose for me in this day.
- Most importantly, He has proven the promises of his Word to be a strong and true foundation to cling to. Isaiah 43:2-3, for example, has meant a lot to me over the past year - "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior."
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
My Anchor
A dear friend sent me this today and it was a perfect expression of how God cares for me through the most difficult of times...
The anchor holds
though the ship is battered;
The anchor holds
though the sails are torn;
I have fallen on my knees
as I faced the raging seas;
The anchor holds
in spite of the storm.
The anchor holds
though the ship is battered;
The anchor holds
though the sails are torn;
I have fallen on my knees
as I faced the raging seas;
The anchor holds
in spite of the storm.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Radiation Oncology Consultation
This has been an exceptionally difficult treatment cycle for me emotionally. Hence the radio silence... but I wanted to get at least something of an update posted before I go down from my last scheduled chemo. I'm writing from the infusion center... chemo #6 of phase 2... so let me try to update you before I'm drugged and incapable of focusing clearly.
Two weeks ago I had my radiation oncology consultation. I went into the appointment blissfully ignorant due to the fact that a number of people had told me that radiation is much easier than chemotherapy. I quickly learned that this will most likely not be the case for me. Because of the location of my radiation and the major extent of my surgery this past summer, radiation holds a very likely prospect that it will be just as difficult as chemo for me. The side effects will be a little different, though.
I won't bore you (or gross you out) with the details of the side effects. Suffice it to say - it's not going to be easy and there are some pretty daunting long term side effects, some of which are possible - pray that I don't suffer from life-long chronic lymph edema (a build up of fluid) in my legs - and some of which are definite - those I won't even mention here.
When I was receiving all this information, at first I felt like a deer caught in headlights. I was being inundated with so many details that were just so hard to accept! The longer the consultation went on, the more I felt like I had just slammed into a brick wall. It knocked me off my feet and it took me a good week or so just to shake off the shock and stand back up again. Now it's a matter of processing all that I learned. Brick by brick, I'm pulling apart that wall because there is no escape... I'm going to have to walk through it and get to the other side one way or another.
I won't have any definite answers on my schedule until the beginning of December, but for now it looks like I'll be in radiation for the better part of two to three months. I'll do external radiation every day (Monday through Friday) for about 5 1/2 to 6 weeks... maybe more. Then I'll do internal radiation once a week for about 3 weeks. I'm holding onto the good news that there's a good chance I'll be finishing treatment about a week before my mission trip to Haiti. It'll be rough, but I'm still hoping to be able to go.... We'll see!
For now, I have very mixed feelings. It is such a good thing to be so close to taking another step toward the end of my treatment. I've been unbelievably blessed since I was diagnosed last February. My cancer is so aggressive and advanced, it's a wonder (I would say a miracle) that I have responded so well to treatment. There are days when I'm amazed that I'm even looking at a realistic possibility that I'll be told I'm cancer-free someday.
Yet, I'm finding that it's almost as intimidating to face the prospect of transitioning back into "normal" life as it was to transition into treatment. On top of that, there are so many questions that swirl around my head every day. What will the next scan show? Will I stop responding to treatment so well at some point? Will the cancer begin to grow again? Will it come back after I'm in remission? How long will I live? Will I die a long and ugly death because of this disease? ...And so many more. It's difficult to live in this state of limbo all the time. Yet, in truth, nothing is guaranteed to any of us. We just fool ourselves into thinking that it's all going to be OK. We deny the reality that this life is merely a vapor (James 4:14).
I find myself being pushed into a new reality through all of this. I'm recognizing on a whole new level the pain and fragility of this life. I've gotten to a point where I'm totally burned out. I'm done. I'm done with feeling sick so often. I'm done with always feeling tired. I'm done with my body not working the way I want it to. I'm done with my hands and feet being numb. I'm done with struggling through all the many emotions that come with cancer and its treatment. I'm just done. I wish I didn't have to go any further in this life. I so long for heaven.... I long to realize the promises of no more tears, no more pain, and no more suffering. I'm done with this life! Yet, there are a few people precious to me whose eternity still hangs in the balance... they have become my motivation for hanging on still.
That said, let me be clear about one more thing, so you don't go worrying about me. God has very much so been holding me in place. Somehow by his mercy and grace, he has kept me from being completely washed away and drowned by these thoughts. He has given me a firm foundation and a keen sense of purpose in the midst of it all. I know that if I woke up today, God has a purpose for me in this day. I know that if I'm still here, there's a reason for it... and it is that truth to which I cling.
Still, my feelings are strong right now and I'm struggling in a big way... but this week I got a great reminder. I was reminded of Noah of all people! Like him, I feel as if I've been flooded and I'm floating adrift on a vast sea (Genesis 8:6-12). Noah was in need of a little hope when he released a dove from the ark and waited for it to return to him with a sign of dry land somewhere.... anywhere! He got that glimpse of hope when the dove finally returned with an olive leaf in its mouth. Like him, I'm looking out at a vast and stormy sea praying for a glimpse of hope from the Lord. I'm holding onto his promises and the faithfulness he's shown me, so that I may still have the eyes to see God through this very dark time. No matter how I happen to feel at the moment, he is still my stronghold and refuge (Psalm 18:2-6). That will never change.
If you're in your own dark time, feeling like you're on a stormy sea... let me encourage you with what encourages me, "Look to the horizon. You never know when a glimpse of hope may be coming you way!
Two weeks ago I had my radiation oncology consultation. I went into the appointment blissfully ignorant due to the fact that a number of people had told me that radiation is much easier than chemotherapy. I quickly learned that this will most likely not be the case for me. Because of the location of my radiation and the major extent of my surgery this past summer, radiation holds a very likely prospect that it will be just as difficult as chemo for me. The side effects will be a little different, though.
I won't bore you (or gross you out) with the details of the side effects. Suffice it to say - it's not going to be easy and there are some pretty daunting long term side effects, some of which are possible - pray that I don't suffer from life-long chronic lymph edema (a build up of fluid) in my legs - and some of which are definite - those I won't even mention here.
When I was receiving all this information, at first I felt like a deer caught in headlights. I was being inundated with so many details that were just so hard to accept! The longer the consultation went on, the more I felt like I had just slammed into a brick wall. It knocked me off my feet and it took me a good week or so just to shake off the shock and stand back up again. Now it's a matter of processing all that I learned. Brick by brick, I'm pulling apart that wall because there is no escape... I'm going to have to walk through it and get to the other side one way or another.
I won't have any definite answers on my schedule until the beginning of December, but for now it looks like I'll be in radiation for the better part of two to three months. I'll do external radiation every day (Monday through Friday) for about 5 1/2 to 6 weeks... maybe more. Then I'll do internal radiation once a week for about 3 weeks. I'm holding onto the good news that there's a good chance I'll be finishing treatment about a week before my mission trip to Haiti. It'll be rough, but I'm still hoping to be able to go.... We'll see!
For now, I have very mixed feelings. It is such a good thing to be so close to taking another step toward the end of my treatment. I've been unbelievably blessed since I was diagnosed last February. My cancer is so aggressive and advanced, it's a wonder (I would say a miracle) that I have responded so well to treatment. There are days when I'm amazed that I'm even looking at a realistic possibility that I'll be told I'm cancer-free someday.
Yet, I'm finding that it's almost as intimidating to face the prospect of transitioning back into "normal" life as it was to transition into treatment. On top of that, there are so many questions that swirl around my head every day. What will the next scan show? Will I stop responding to treatment so well at some point? Will the cancer begin to grow again? Will it come back after I'm in remission? How long will I live? Will I die a long and ugly death because of this disease? ...And so many more. It's difficult to live in this state of limbo all the time. Yet, in truth, nothing is guaranteed to any of us. We just fool ourselves into thinking that it's all going to be OK. We deny the reality that this life is merely a vapor (James 4:14).
I find myself being pushed into a new reality through all of this. I'm recognizing on a whole new level the pain and fragility of this life. I've gotten to a point where I'm totally burned out. I'm done. I'm done with feeling sick so often. I'm done with always feeling tired. I'm done with my body not working the way I want it to. I'm done with my hands and feet being numb. I'm done with struggling through all the many emotions that come with cancer and its treatment. I'm just done. I wish I didn't have to go any further in this life. I so long for heaven.... I long to realize the promises of no more tears, no more pain, and no more suffering. I'm done with this life! Yet, there are a few people precious to me whose eternity still hangs in the balance... they have become my motivation for hanging on still.
That said, let me be clear about one more thing, so you don't go worrying about me. God has very much so been holding me in place. Somehow by his mercy and grace, he has kept me from being completely washed away and drowned by these thoughts. He has given me a firm foundation and a keen sense of purpose in the midst of it all. I know that if I woke up today, God has a purpose for me in this day. I know that if I'm still here, there's a reason for it... and it is that truth to which I cling.
Still, my feelings are strong right now and I'm struggling in a big way... but this week I got a great reminder. I was reminded of Noah of all people! Like him, I feel as if I've been flooded and I'm floating adrift on a vast sea (Genesis 8:6-12). Noah was in need of a little hope when he released a dove from the ark and waited for it to return to him with a sign of dry land somewhere.... anywhere! He got that glimpse of hope when the dove finally returned with an olive leaf in its mouth. Like him, I'm looking out at a vast and stormy sea praying for a glimpse of hope from the Lord. I'm holding onto his promises and the faithfulness he's shown me, so that I may still have the eyes to see God through this very dark time. No matter how I happen to feel at the moment, he is still my stronghold and refuge (Psalm 18:2-6). That will never change.
If you're in your own dark time, feeling like you're on a stormy sea... let me encourage you with what encourages me, "Look to the horizon. You never know when a glimpse of hope may be coming you way!
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