cancerchondriac and to trust some more

February 19, 2009 – declared cancer free!  What unbelievable words to hear, really, I mean unbelievable.

Hearing you have cancer and then going through months of treatment and then being declared cancer free is a mixed bag of emotions.  I was delighted and relieved to hear those words but there was a part of me that did not want to believe what I heard.  Allowing this cloud of hesitation put me in control of not being back-handed again by the diagnose, “You have cancer.”  That statement was so shocking, I was not going to allow myself to believe I would remain cancer free.  If I allowed for that chance then I wouldn’t be shocked.  There, I am in control and if and more likely when I relapse, I am already emotionally prepared.  Doesn’t that sound crazy?

The bummer about cancer is the treating oncologist makes it plain they can not use the word “cure.”  Since the doctor cannot say you are cured and there is no chance of the cancer returning, this can create a sense of dread in your thinking.  (I wish cancer could be treated like a cold, you get over it in about ten days and if you don’t, you are prescribed an anti-biotic to assure you get over the cold.  Chemotherapy is not like an anti-biotic; it kills the cancer cells but you are not guaranteed that one cancerous cell remains and is lurking waiting to wreak havoc on my life again.)

And then there is the precious “five-year” mark.  If you can get to five years your cancer will more than likely not return and just maybe the doctor might use the word “cured.”  But, yes, there is a big BUT . . .

It doesn’t matter how long you have been cancer free, you will always be a cancerchondriac.  The degree to which one is a cancerchondriac will vary, but nonetheless, there will be a quarter-inch sized square in your brain that entertains the “what ifs.”  (Please read the well written article by Betsy deParry, “A decade after a cancer diagnose: musings on life,” a previous post on this blog.)  I can bear witness that in the first year the brain is pretty much occupied by the capitalized “WHAT IF”  but as the years pass the occupied space becomes smaller and in lower case “what if”, thus down to a quarter square inch.

I have heard from 8, 10, 12 year veterans of survivorship still going through “scanxiety” as their annual appointment rolls around.  As a survivor, the first year post treatment you generally see the oncologist every three months, then the doctor lengthens out the visits to every six months until the you hit that five-year mark.  After that precious milestone, then the appointments become annual but regardless how many years have gone by the survivor still has a sense of dread, maybe a little, maybe a lot.

And, I hear from our veterans even after years along in their cancer free living if an odd ache pops up, a questionable hitch, a bump, a shadow on a xray that quarter square inch grows and the lower case “what if” has two or three question marks behind it and darn, that cloud of hesitation returns until the doctor proclaims, “That is nothing to worry about.”  Then one thinks to oneself, how silly, I over reacted.  Heck, yeah!

So addressing “to trust some more” is the name of the game.

My CBC’s (routine blood draw measuring red, white and platelet counts) show that my red count is not normal, it does not fall into the normal range, it is below.  I’ve seen wacky lymphocyte and monocyte counts, A/G ratio out of the normal range, LDH is a little high. I wonder what is going on?  If the blood test results show I’m out of range in one way or another I compare it with past months results, is there a trend?  And then not knowing what a lymphocyte or monocyte is, let alone an A/G ratio and a LDH, I look up the terms so I know what they are and do and if all this is bad.  I bring it to the doctor’s attention.  Can I trust you with this?

And then there is the “bump.”  The bump was how my lymphoma manifested so now when I find a bump does that mean . . . ?  One lymph node is a bit larger than the same node on the other side.  Asymmetric = not normal.  (With this one my “what if” did capitalize into “WHAT IF”)  So I skedaddle to my oncologist!  And her comment is it is not large enough to be of concern.  Well, are you sure?  Maybe you’re wrong!  Can I trust you on this?

And now it is time for my annual appointment.  I first scheduled my appointment with my local oncologist here in Kalispell.  A part of the routine annual exam is a full blood panel and a CT scan.  Now I have come to rely on my blood tests, if I’m going to relapse it will show up in the blood work.  Also, I rely on the CT scan to show us what we can not see – those hidden, internal lymph nodes I can’t feel to see if they are growing in size. If those two tests result in all is well, then for the next four months until the next blood draw I am assured the cancer has not come back.  And so it goes.

However, we planned a camping trip that takes us through Salt Lake City.  I thought I might as well make an appointment with my treating oncologist who is the specialist in hematological cancers.  You see, my doctor here is a general oncologist and he just might not detect something amiss.  Remember, can I trust him?

So I am scheduled with Dr. Glenn in March.  She will test my blood and order a CT scan.  But wait!  I was informed by Nurse Debbie after two years post stem cell transplant Dr. Glenn no longer believes a CT scan is necessary.  What?  You mean to tell me I can’t look into my body anymore for those evil, possibly growing lymph nodes?  Can I trust Dr. Glenn?????

Trust.  I am learning trust is the name of the game.  My last three blog entries were on trusting God in all things including my body and my health and my future.  A huge lesson here, do not put my hope and confidence in blood tests and CT scans – even if they show something negative.  I am to trust God first and the skills and knowledge of my doctors second.  If the doctor tells me he or she is not concerned then I need to trust their decision.

I was once again relying too heavily on circumstances letting them dictate my response so that I might control my emotions not letting news (bad news) back hand me again.   My eyes opened.  One, just trust God; two, and trust the knowledge of my doctors.  If I relapse, eventually it will be found out through testing or otherwise.  Why anticipate it?  I have no control over this anyway.

So, I thought to myself, “It’s time to put my big girl panties on.”  I had cancer, I am now cancer free.  Don’t worry, in God’s book my days are already ordained and nothing will happen too soon or too late.  Trust God, He is in control!  (and I’m not, phew!)

Sovereign, lordship and trust – part III

My absolute trust in God and believing in a sovereign purpose for my cancer was my confidence and hope while in treatment.   My attitude remained positive and upbeat to the amazement of the medical team and nursing staff.  I was in the race of my life and the goal was to get across that finish line and go home.  From  being a runner and having participated in races, I knew the determination it took to get across that line and the relief and elation when the race was over.

I believed in Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him,  who have been called according to his purpose.”  I also knew Psalm139, that God knew all of my days before they even happened as well as Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you . . .”  These scripture verses were my confidence and hope that my cancer was not accidental nor was it in vain.  Because of these truths, I was never angry with God nor did I question Him with this disease.

When I got home I felt like someone picked me up and turned me upside down and shook everything out of me; my normal, my control, who I was and my life purpose.  I clung to the truth that God knew of this new and different kind of suffering but my explicit trust became fuzzy as I turned inward and worrisome.

Before cancer I thought I trusted God.  I lived a descent and godly life hoping that I reflected Christ in all that I did.  I kept busy with my family, I worked, I kept physically fit and I served our church.  I lived a very predictable and stable life, everything was as it should be.  But when I look back now, my foundation was a thin layer of glass with heavy bricks built on top called “me”.  If I did this, then this should happen resulting in a sense of security in what I did – what I did.

So cancer dislodged my bricks and my predictable, stable life and all that it should be was crushed becoming dust.  I believed if I lived just so all would fall into place just as I thought it should; we would retire, we would go to church, our children would marry and we would become proud grandparents.

In recovery I was gravely made aware that living  just so didn’t guarantee a long life, that nothing guaranteed a long life including being nutritiously sound and physically fit.  My sense of security and feeling safe in my controlled world was wrestled from my grasp and the lordship I held over my life was challenged.  When I got home from treatment I expected my life to return to normal but my old normal was dust.  With a shattered foundation and crushed bricks and no understanding of what “normal” was my vulnerability was the first step in rediscovering who God was and His lordship over my life.

The process of understanding God and developing  a deeper trust in Him took time.  The assurance of my pursuit was once again found on the truth that all things work for the good, there was a goodness to be realized.  In my weakness my recovery and discovery was nudged along by the steadfast love and acceptance of my family, the empathy expressed at my cancer support group, a friend who let me talk, an insightful counselor who helped me adjust to and accept my cancer, a Bible study that affirmed God’s sovereignty and the layers of revelation read in God’s word, the Bible.

Thankfully and gratefully this defining journey came to a peaceful conclusion.  I learned I cannot control the events of my life, my life rests soundly in God’s overarching sovereignty, He is lord of my life and He is lord over every day of my life.   He knows my last breath and it will not come too soon nor will it come too late, it will come the day He designed.  God knows my body and I must entrust it to Him.  The foundation in which I now rest is strong and sure, deep and wide.  My trust is renewed and has a new depth of understanding.

My life has a calling and it is purposed by God.  The good that He is bringing about in my life after cancer is not only all things work for the good but also this good results in my being conformed to the likeness of His Son, Romans 8:29.  May God use my life and may His name be glorified.

 

 

A sweet trust, a faltering trust – part I

There is nothing harder in my life than having cancer.  When I was in treatment I had laser-like focus in beating this beast and I explicitly trusted God in the challenges of the ups and downs, victories and setbacks that chemotherapy brings.  I found comfort in knowing that God already knew and set my life course before I even had cancer.  I look back on those days with a sense of gratitude and thanksgiving as I felt His daily closeness to me.  This intimate trust was sweet but once I returned home to recover a new journey of trusting God began and continues to this day.

TRUST is a noun.  To trust is to have confidence; to rely on the integrity, strength, ability, surety of a thing or person.  Trust also means to hope; a confident expectation of something.

While in treatment I had both a confidence and a hope but after treatment my trust began to falter.  God did not change, I changed.  I began to question “things” like if my body failed me once it could fail me again; I had purpose before cancer, what is my purpose now?  Why am I weak in my faith after having such a confident trust in God all through treatment?  My optimism shifted into a dark uncertainty.

I had many conflicting emotions but I think the bottom line was I was afraid, I was really afraid.

You see, being diagnosed with cancer rocked my world.  And what defined “my world”?  The following is what I wrote in my Bible March, 31, 2009, one month after my last radiation treatment  and my 100 day post stem cell transplant appointment in which the doctor announced the good news, I was cancer free.

“I was asked a question, ‘What did you chose to worship this week?’  I answered, MYSELF, and the consequence to my self-worship was FRUSTRATION.

I am under the illusion I am ‘normal’ and I wrestle my life away from You.  But this illusion slips back to reality and I realize I am not in control and I will never again experience my ‘normal’ of 49 years again.  Oh, how I want control!  But there is noting I can do and in my self-worship I grow frustrated.”

As a Christian and before cancer I was a determined and self-disciplined woman.  Not realizing what I was doing, I controlled my environment and this control made me feel safe and capable. If I could control a situation to the best of my ability then I wasn’t vulnerable.  Rather than trust God and allow Him to be Lord over my life I was my own lord and trusted in my manipulations.

This man-made and faulty foundation crumbled under cancer.  Everything I knew and was familiar with was no more.  When I heard the words, “You have cancer” there was nothing for me to do but  look up and call to God; I fell into His arms and trusted in Him for all things during my treatment.

I trusted Him in our decisions we made, I trusted Him through my doctors, I trusted Him in my treatment protocol, I trusted Him when I was very sick, I trusted Him through my transplant and I trusted Him in life or death.  Yet when I came home and tried to make my life normal again I couldn’t because my controlling grasp was now frustrated and slippery; my life had changed and in this change my trust in God stumbled.

And so my journey began, a two and a half-year shift from my lordship over my life to understanding and gladly accepting His lordship over my life.

(Sovereign and purposeful plan – part II, following)