My Thoughts on Cancer

Receiving my diagnosis of cancer was shocking but not completely unexpected.  After all, I smoked for many years, ignoring the warnings and feeling invincible.  So I now must deal with the consequences of my actions.  I think about the cancer and the many different forms it takes and how debilitating it can be.  As I sit receiving chemotherapy, particularly during my long days, I see quite a few people of all ages come and go except children.  To me, it seems each one responds differently.  I’m thankful I don’t see any children.  I only see the people I share the chemotherapy room with and they are in more defined age ranges which I’ll get to in a moment.  Children and the more advanced cancer patients are kept from me.  Their struggle is more personal, suffering more acute, so I’m grateful I don’t share their experience for that portion of their cancer struggle.

When I think of children with cancer I think of those children at St Jude’s Children Hospital.  How brave those children are.  Those children show an intestinal fortitude and grace that transcends anything I’ll ever know.  Their young lives were transformed from being just children to being patients spending most of their young lives in a hospital ward.  As I watch their commercial, I am mesmerized by their eyes.  Bright, sparkling, courageous, to name just a few elements their eyes possess.  Their eyes reflect the love of God.  It comes right through the TV.  Jesus holds them in His arms as He lets them experience the real love of God.  Their wisdom and strength is amazing and I am humbled.

When I enter the chemotherapy center for my cocktail of killer chemicals, I’ve noted some teens and twentyish folks also undergoing therapy.  They appear upbeat.  They seem almost accepting of their lot in life and are friendly to everyone.  Their smiles are infectious.  They have their iPhones on, headsets in and music playing.  A cure for them seems very possible so the diagnosis becomes a bump in their life’s road.  Not so for a middle-aged victim.

A cancer diagnosis for a middle-aged person seems more debilitating.  Their life plans get suddenly put on hold as they must undergo chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy in an attempt to stop the cancer’s growth.  Their partners attend the therapy with them.  Some win the battle and others lose and my heart goes out to them all.  Their life is altered as well as their families. 

For an older person who is near or past retirement age and receives a cancer diagnosis, I see two sides appear.  Some appear surly, angry and hurt.  Often they are facing this battle alone as their spouse has already lost their battle.  They are brought to the Oncology Center by the nursing home they are now forced to reside in.  Then there are the others who have family beside them, offering support.  They are happier, friendlier, and willing to share their story with anyone who will listen.  I pray for them all.

In my case, the diagnosis was not easy to swallow.  Finding out I had lung cancer that had metastasized to my liver and into my back was a shock. But even more shocking was to find out that it entered my brain. 

At first, I was numb.  I started chemotherapy and had all the usual side effects that chemotherapy brings…nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, constipation, fatigue, loss of balance, memory loss, hair loss, etc.  The fatigue and nausea was the worst.  I dreaded the chemo sessions as they would wipe me out for days.  And as the chemo decreased my red blood cells I found myself becoming more fatigued in less time more often as the anemia increased.

I realize I may not beat this.  I realize it could very easily flourish without warning, causing even more trouble.  But for some reason I find that okay.  I don’t know why.  That I have the strength at this time to prepare meals and clean the kitchen of my dirty dishes does my heart good.  I get frustrated that I can no longer drive due to loss of motor skills but then it’s nice to sit back and have someone else drive me around for a change.

But cancer has also been, for me, a strange sort of blessing.  I’ve been able to restart a relationship with God that I had forsaken for many years.  The radiation therapy for the brain cancer should cause memory loss and while I do often find it difficult to remember what I want to say, I am having no trouble remembering all the lousy things I did I my life.  Those images wash over me like waves on a shore, battering my consciousness.  I guess that’s what’s called spiritual healing.

And yet I find I’m more at peace now than I have been in years.  I am changing my spiritual direction and asking for forgiveness.  The cancer makes me slow down so my life spreads slowly out making it easier to enjoy the full fruits of life.  In every little thing I find great joy as if my heart was suddenly opened.  At first, I was embarrassed about my almost incessant emotional merry-go-round whenever I spoke or thought of something personal.  Now I relish the tears that flow as I realize they are healing my soul.  But that may end as my anti-depressant medication kicks in. 

I have no idea what is to come and that is best.  I’m taking it one day at a time.  That’s all God gives me, one day…today.  I have no control over tomorrow; that’s His decision.  I can only do the best I can today.  Some days I can’t accomplish much from a physical perspective due to pain but that is okay.  The pain eventually ends.  On those days I can still read and reading gives me the opportunity to grow spiritually.  And my relationship with Jeannie has grown tremendously just over the past six months.  We have a wonderful life without all the clutter that we searched out for years.  There is great joy in simplicity.