Contemplating serious things

"I waited patiently for the LORD, and he stooped towards me and heard my prayers.He drew me up out of the pit of destruction,out of the mud of the swamp,set my feet on a rock, steadied my steps, put a new song in my mouth;a hymn of praise to our God, many shall hear, and be awed, and put their trust in the LORD." ~ excerpt Pslam 40

So it's way late at night and I should get to bed but I feel the need to throw something out into the void.

Not sure why this is bothering me so much. My dear friend, Leigh Ann called today to chat and mentioned off-hand that I should do a story about a friend of hers. A sweet girl, by all descriptions, who is our age and a nursing student. She was feeling ill and went to student health. Hours later she was flying to Mayo clinic to begin immediate chemotherapy for leukemia.

I have been thinking of this poor girl all night.

This past April, I too had a moment of blind panic and fear. Sitting in a cold doctor's office feeling terribly uneasy... I had been in the E.R. the night before and was waiting for the results of a test to come in. My doctor entered the room and looked at my mother.

"I'm glad she's with you."

I felt like someone had put ice cold hands around my neck.

"We found a mass growing on your ovary. It's very big. It will have to be removed and we're sending you over to get a CAT scan this afternoon. This will determine more about the tumor."

Tumor?

The lump in my throat was already fully formed. I didn't start to cry, I was already sobbing, gulping in huge breaths of air. My mom was white and silent.

"Can I go get my husband?"

The doctor nodded. I remember thinking it was funny because I rarely heard my mom refer to dad as "her husband." It was always "Mark" or "dad."

Oh god. What was wrong with my body? Surgery? Was I still going to be able to have kids? Would I live that long?

My dad entered the room and I can't imagine what was going through his head as he looked at his 22 year old daughter, crying like a child.

~~~~

Looking back, I can almost roll my eyes at the dramatics of it all. I had a completely benign cyst that was removed May 17. I was up and walking within hours of surgery and nearly 100% recovered in a month.

Other than a foot long scar, I have nothing to remind me.... no pain, no long term care. I had my staples out and I healed. I am me again. Walking around whole.

But there was a moment, perhaps a whole day even where I pondered what my life would be with cancer. Tubes and tests and weakness and struggle. Maybe death. I thought of Jason, dear Jason. Could I ever be that brave, that kind and strong for my family?

I remember thinking for the first time in my life with absolute concrete conviction. "Dear God. I don't want to die."

And now I know that another human is going through the same cycle of fear. But her story isn't looking to have that humorous ending. No random tumor for her. It's an all-out battle for her life and I wish so much she didn't have to fight.

I don't even know her. But I feel like I do. I think of Jason, my grandmothers, Carol and all those luminary bags at Relay for Life. The way they glow warmly in the night emitting this message of hope is such a wonderful contrast to the heart-wrenching fear that is CANCER.

I want to thank God every second of every day that my daily complaints amount to homework, money & sleep deprivation. Thank you for not giving me a laundry list of medical procedures: chemicals, pain etc. If I someday have to go through that burden, I have had the good fortune to have a preview of what it would be like... within hours of my shocking news, friends were visiting calling and offering support.

"You'll be fine Emily."

And I was.

Now I pray for others. Never forgetting the randomness of it all-- the crazy cosmic "plan" that gives terrible trials to the undeserving and lucky breaks to others.