Friday, February 20, 2015

It's Been Two Years

I wasn't going to let this milestone go by unnoticed!  While it may seem strange to "celebrate" the anniversary of a serious diagnosis, what I'm actually celebrating is that fact that I've had two glorious years since then.

The sky was achingly blue, the sunshine brilliant, the brick houses so vivid as we drove home from the hospital that fateful day. The beauty around me seemed surreal, and all I could think was, "I have cancer. How long do I have left to live?"

How does it feel to be told that you have cancer? I can easily reconjure the desperation in my heart, but I think my own words from two years ago say it best. Here's my diary entry for Wednesday, February 20, 2013:  

Well, I have breast cancer. There's just no good way to put it. Not the result we were expecting or hoping for. Even the doctors are surprised: a cancerous cyst. So now I face scans, surgery, chemo, radiation, and the pill. Not a pretty picture. Hard to tell the kids; hard to see them and Greg cry. I'm numb, scared, a little angry. But we'll trust God ~ and fight this hard.

The next day:

A lot of ups and downs today. Tears when I read notes from precious friends. Only slept a couple of hours last night, so took a couple catnaps this afternoon and evening. A good dentist's visit ~ no cavities!! And clean teeth heading into chemo. A very encouraging talk with [friends by phone], just tracing God's hand in my appointment set-ups so far. Miracles, they said! But feeling low and sad tonight. Girls [are], too.

And the next:

Another almost sleepless night. The girls and I were up in the middle with the cat ~ and a weird noise. Read to the girls [today], then a short nap . . . . Afternoon [phone] conversations with [some fellow cancer survivors/patients]. A lovely song and good conversation with [another friend]. A movie, Skype with [our university son] Cal (so good), and a visit from [more friends]. Cheerful!

Finally, on Saturday:

A much better night's sleep. Even dreamt a little! Studying my Bible in the morning felt normal, but then a sense of urgency and despair set in. Greg felt lonely and sad. I learned that [another acquaintance] had died in December of lymphoma. Got some necessary deskwork done, and a good walk with [my daughter] Nic, but just feeling really low and black before bed. Then a good chat with Mom.

And on Sunday:

God gives strength for each new day . . . . In church this morning, prayer for me and encouraging words afterwards lifted my spirits. A little nap before lunch ~ felt good. Long talk with Cal this afternoon. I started my journal of my journey thus far.

There were still four days until my surgery, but I'll stop my entries there. I believe this is the first time I've re-read most of these writings myself, and I find them sobering. But what strikes me are the patterns. Sleepless nights . . . naps . . . sweet conversations with my family . . . strengthening talks with others who'd "been there" . . . overwhelming darkness . . . and the light of Scripture, God's sovereignty, and prayer. In many ways, these things are still the fabric of my life, although the sleepless nights and black despair are few and far between now.

Then in my diary I notice the things that made life seem normal still: reading, movies, deskwork, walking, writing. Thank God, these are still with me, as well! 

I remember telling a friend during that time: "Cancer is no different than real life. It just makes everything seem bigger and more intense." Don't get me wrong ~ cancer is definitely life-altering. But with a good God, friends, and family to walk with you through it, life can still be sweet. 

Thanks to ALL of you who have journeyed with me!







Wednesday, February 18, 2015

The Daily Things

It came and went without any fanfare or recognition. I actually had to check my diary to confirm the date. And here I am, four months and a handful of holidays later, finally writing about it.

The one-year anniversary of my final radiation treatment fell on October 8, 2014. And I didn't even notice. It seems like that would have been a major milestone, something worth posting about. But at that point last fall, we were in the midst of a heavy travelling schedule, speaking in churches and visiting family and friends. I was struggling to keep my head above water as we tackled a laundry room renovation and carried on our ministry here while taking major trips a couple of times a month.

I was tired and irritable, and found myself getting upset over the littlest things, things that wouldn't matter in a few months, or a hundred years . . . much less in eternity.  

And I had to ask myself: how can a person go through something as life-threatening as cancer, and still get angry over a measuring mistake during construction? It seems that by now I would have figured out what was really important, embraced it, and let the rest go.

The fact is, it's seldom the big things in life that trip us up. Oh, sure, they jar us. They stop us in our tracks, make us scream heart-wrenching questions, shake us to the core. But then, as the crisis becomes a daily reality, we seem to dig deep, find the Strength we need, and steady ourselves for the long haul.

But it's the little foxes that spoil the vines, as wise King Solomon once said. Or, as one of my friends told me, meltdowns usually come "apparently over something totally dumb ~ like they didn't have my usual brand of ketchup on the grocery shelf. But of course, that was only the trigger. It is the little things that get to us. We're good at balancing the BIG things, and most of the time God doesn't send too many at us at one time. But if that foundation of all the little things gets shaky, it makes the balancing act so much harder." She lived overseas as a military wife for a time, so she knew what she was talking about.

It seems we can "gear up" for the big things. I clearly remember the day in May 2013 when I was told I had a foot-long blood clot in my right arm and would need to give myself daily blood-thinner injections until the end of my chemotherapy. Scary? Yes. Heart-stopping? Yes. But God gave me several opportunities that day to share my faith. I drove home from the hospital rejoicing.

As I drove, I thought about my son who had just finished his first year of university and was needing to work long hours in Pennsylvania over the summer to pay for his school bill. I felt empathetic panic rise up in my heart for the trials he was going to face. And I realized with a start that I was more worried for him than I was for myself.  More worried about a heavy workload than a blood clot? Somehow I knew God was going to take care of the big things, but the daily things? Well, that's another story.

Sounds ludicrous, doesn't it? I know full well that He cares about the world wars ... and the little sparrow that falls outside my door. If He can help me face cancer, He can help me face a "too-full" calendar. I just have to view them both in light of eternity.