The C Word - At a Loss For Words

Anyone who knows me, truly knows me, knows that when writing for me is therapeutic.  I learned through counseling after my first husband died, that to put things on paper helps to sort things out.  Writing down thoughts makes you stop and think about them and, in the end, helps put things into perspective. 

This past week has been rather earth shattering, though.  And I feel at a loss for the words to say or to think.  I know I should write and get it all out of my head, but at the same time I feel like I shouldn’t.  I don’t know why this is.

So I thought, “find some old life clichés and maybe that will help you figure out what to write about”.  I googled this – and didn’t really find any true inspiration as I usually do.  The only ones that spoke to me were:

Life is like an onion:  You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.

Yes, weeping, that’s on my mind this week and I’ve had moments of doing just that.  When did life seem so out of control that the only thing to do was to weep?  Peel enough layers off and that’s what happens.  This week it was as if a huge bandage was torn off and a wound was opened up.  Staring at that wound (cancer) this week is difficult.  The wound is disproportionately larger than we had expected it to be.  Our biggest concern is if it can be adequately remedied – and how. 

On one hand we knew that this was how things could progress.  On the other hand, denial is a strong companion.  As long as symptoms were mild, we could deny the war going on inside the body. 

But symptoms reared their ugly head and, for the first time in nearly a year we found ourselves back in the emergency room (I won’t count the time we went in last July for a non-cancer related issue).  Just as when we went in to the ER for a kidney stone back in August 2014, this one gave unexpected results that caught us off guard.  To discover that one tumor grew a full inch in less than 4 weeks’ time left us quite disconcerted.  Did someone read a scan incorrectly in March  - or on this particular night?  Will this now change, yet again, any plans we were thinking of for treatment?

As we sat in the emergency room after hearing this news, George and I quietly sat/lay in the room.  We didn’t have the words to say.  In the back of my mind was the prayer I’d silently said to myself earlier that night, for God to make it known what we should do for treatment.  While it appeared we were headed towards chemotherapy as this looked to be the only option at this time, was this God’s answer that we should hold off?  We have known that surgery was only an option for symptom relief.  Was George given symptoms now in order to give us a second option.  Was God answering my prayer?  Or is that wishful thinking on my part because I have never been totally sold on chemotherapy although if that is what George wants to do I will support it?

The power of unspoken words have sometimes been a blessing and sometimes been a curse to me.  I remember many years ago (1998-99 time frame) when for some unknown reason I thought, “I’m so glad I don’t have to be on the dating scene anymore because where would I go besides bars, etc to find a date”…. Only to have my husband die not that much later and found myself in exactly that position.  Because of that, I sometimes feel that I shouldn’t think or say certain things as they may jinx whatever I have planned. 

Yet I have also found that these thoughts are sometimes God speaking.  These intuitive thoughts are His way of preparing me for what lies ahead – or for leading me to say or do certain things – or to enable me to make decisions. If someone asked me if I have ever heard God speaking, my answer would be a definitive “Yes!”.  There is no doubt in my mind that he has spoken to me – sometimes in my own thoughts and sometimes spoken by others around me. 

I find this can put me in a precarious situation.  Do I not want George to have chemo because I’m being selfish as I know what my life would be like during this time period?  Or is it because the end result would be worse than where we are now and suffering would be for naught?    Did George have this most recent painful night of cramping in order to make us go to the ER and get these results in order to open up another avenue of treatment?  Was this an answer to prayer – or not? 

Surgery in his situation is not pleasant.  He has few extra internal organs left at this point.  And loss of any of them could possibly lead to “external” aids?  While those are inconvenient and have their own set(s) of issues, could they possibly be more tolerable to live with than six months of chemo?  Could they possibly give him some relief?  For me, I fear chemo more than I fear surgery at this point.  Surgery could get rid of the largest of the tumors (I think) and external aids may actually allow some symptomatic relief in regards to cramping and possible obstructions and allow George to regain pleasure in some things such as eating ore not feeling tied to home as much.  Would that not be a blessing rather than a curse?  We know this cancer will eventually take him – and perhaps quality of life could be improved for a period of time – long enough to make more pleasant memories with family and friends? 

However, it is not me who has the cancer.  Not directly anyway.  I can only offer my opinions on various treatment, give George “food for thought”.  I cannot imagine being in his position.  As I said before, there are no good options.  And up until a few days ago we thought we had only one option.  We don’t yet know if surgery is an option, but it seems more viable now than it did a week ago. 

I spend a lot of time listening to songs - - many Christian songs… These songs and words bring me great comfort and help me acknowledge just WHO is in charge of our lives.  They help me hold onto my faith.  They make me sing, dance, cry.  Just while typing this I hear things like:

“Angels are watching over me”

“Lord I believe, someone is watching, praying over me”

“How Beautiful the hands that served, the wine and the bread and the sons of the earth.  How Beautiful the feet that walked the long dusty roads and the hill to the cross.  How Beautiful is the body of Christ.  How Beautiful the heart that bled that took on my sin and bore it instead. How beautiful the tender eyes that choose to forgive and never despise.  How beautiful is the body of Christ.” (sung by Twila Paris)

 “Our God is an awesome God.  He reigns from heaven above with wisdom and power and love.”

 “I have found the perfect mystery.  Love has a hold on me.  Long before my life had come to be, love had a hold on me.  Love has a hold on me.  Where do I come from? What does life mean? Is it not to know the One who made me.  As I’m looking down the road ahead Love has a hold on me.  Some day when I breathe my dying breath, Love has a hold on me.  Love has a hold on me.  Where I will go when this life is through -  back into the light that made me and you.  Love has a hold on me.  Something opened up my eyes to see.  Love has a hold on me.  I don’t have the answers to all of the questions running inside of my mind.  But I can’t help but believe that understanding comes in time.  Love has a hold on me.  Something opened up my eyes to see, Love has a hold on me.  If I run If I hide I know inside your love has a hold on me to.  To the end my heart will follow love ahs a hold on me. “ (sung by Amy Grant)

I don’t know what the immediate future looks like.  I cannot predict exactly what will come to be in regards to George and this stupid, horrible C word.  I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it all disappear.  Will whatever treatment he gets give him more time – or less time?  Only God knows the answer to that.  All I know that I can do is give him the best of me there is to give for as long as that is. 

And so, I will end with the only other “cliché” that spoke to me today in my search.  This is a quote from Abraham Lincoln:  “And… in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count.  It’s the life in your years.”