I have this devastating guttural cry, woe-is-me, I’m done, this isn’t fair moment every time I get diagnosed. Yesterday I had that moment.
A clinical trial, it seemed like it would be a straight forward, almost easy road. But there is no easy road with cancer. I sat in the REI garage crying and contemplating the different roads I could take. I could go forward with the trial, I could do surgery and radiation again, or I could skip treatment all together. The latter sounds so enticing, to just be done, to just go back to normal until cancer runs it’s course. This isn’t the first time I’ve explored the idea, but the truth is, all roads have sacrifice. So then after I realize that there are no easy roads, I feel trapped. I feel like cancer has me trapped, there is no escape, I have no choice. Then in the midst of my self-smothering, I panic.
The clinical trial is a systemic infusion every 2 weeks for the next year.
The next year.
The very words make me squirm. I long for home, no, I long for stability, for a calm to this chaos, for a schedule. The last year and a half I’ve been a gypsy, going from one place to the next. I’ve barely been able to hang all my clothes in the closet and now I have to make the trek to Seattle every 2 weeks for a year. After 8 weeks and 2 biopsies they will determine whether I am responding well to the drug or not. If I don’t respond, there is a risk that my tumor will continue to get bigger and spread, leaving surgery, radiation, or chemo as my only options. It’s already grown to the point that it’s a painful lump pushing against my throat. That possibility scares me so much. I’m the 1% girl remember? Stats bring me no comfort, neither do others success.
But what if it works? What if my tumors dissolve into nothing and the cancer slowly fades from my body? From my life? What if? And it’s in the what if’s that we can make ourselves crazy. I’ve been telling people that being diagnosed for the 3rd time makes me feel kind of like I’m living out Groundhog Day, but the cancer version. So every time that I begin to go into panic mode, every time that to ask the Lord to just kill me know and be done with it, every time I doubt His plan and insist that mine’s better, every time that I start to look at other 23 year olds and envy their freedom, in these moments, when I feel all loss of control, that the Lord lifts my downcast face to meet His gaze. He says, “Look at me daughter.” When I look up, I imagine Him staring back with tears in His eyes, because He hates this too. Then I look back on the first diagnosis, the devastation, the wondering if I’ll live past Christmas, then I reflect back on the second diagnosis, the anger, the wondering if I’ll ever get married, and as my gaze shifts from poor me, from the weak, feeble, and untrusting human to the all knowing, kind, merciful, and GOOD GOD, I remember…
Greater things are yet to come. I will make it, and I will be okay. Not because I’m good, or brave, or strong, but because God is good and brave and strong. He has brought me through 2 battles with cancer, and He is gearing me up for the 3rd.
Greater things are yet to come.
PS: Shout out to my girl Rose for traveling from KANSAS every 2 weeks, I should focus on my blessings.
Also if you want to be praying for my travels, it’s an 8 hour drive to Seattle from Kfalls so we are trying to figure our some flying options. If anyone has a private plane, I mean and it’s on your heart… 😉 I go in for a brain scan and a CT scan today to get restaged. Prayers that I don’t have any other tumors would be appreciated! LOVE you all dearly!