The End?

Psalm 62 vs. 8 'Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge.'

The journey started almost a year ago. It started in the Fall just before Thanksgiving. I had in my calendar plans to pick up a turkey at the local grocery store, recipes for delicious side dishes, trying to figure out who was going to come to dinner. The concerns of everyday life were going through my head until I showed up for a follow up visit to the radiologist. I almost cancelled the appointment thinking how unnecessary it was since I already had multiple opinions on what the large lump in my right side could be. I was unprepared for the sudden change in my everyday routine. The sun even looked different with how it shined down on me. It seemed to cast shadows, of doubt. I remember leaving the appointment sobbing as I pushed my one year son in his stroller to the car. A friend of mine came along to manage my son while I was in with the doctor. She tried her best to keep me focused on the positive side, it will be okay were the words I heard her say. I finally turned to her, poor thing, and said it is not okay something is wrong. I later apologized to her once we had gotten past the tests and other exams. A true friend will always accept and move forward with you, just as she did. I thank her for that.
The next few weeks were a blur of staying brave and feeling like I was in a black hole of despair. My husband had red eyes from crying so much yet my one year old son kept a lively spirit in our home. He was clueless as to what was happening, which I was so relieved about. The surgery was the beginning of our research as to what was happening within my body. As I recovered from surgery more tests were given and my stage was slowly being established. The PT Scan was the final test to say what stage I was at. I was truly frightened. If the scan showed cancer cells in other parts of my body I was only prolonging my life. If nothing showed up then I had a chance...not a 100 percent chance but a chance to live for awhile longer. The two days waiting for the scan results were agonizing. I felt like I was being tortured. I could not eat or concentrate. The picture of door number one or two kept playing through my head. I had NO control. This is where I found sitting on the floor next to my bed and praying to God helped the most. It would always calm me down and I could eventually get up and make dinner or watch TV. My husband called with the results and the scan was clear. We both cried. I felt like someone had given me a shot at possibly living awhile longer.
The first day of chemotherapy came upon us and I remember sitting in the lobby crying. I did not want to be bald and look frail. I was too young for this I remember thinking to myself. The nurses understood and took very good care of me. They watched over me like angels. I was given a beautiful blanket from a friend, the church she attends made it for me and blessed it. I used the blanket every time. The only time I did not use it there was an issue with the IV. I then never forgot it and it kept me safe. The days of therapy were long and really changed me. I no longer see life as I used to. I do not take for granted my days with my family or close friends. I take each moment, each breath with appreciation. It is like being reborn again.
The break in between chemo and radiation gave me a chance to heal and to feel healthy. We went to Maui and I remember sitting on the beach wondering if this was going to be my last vacation. I was in a rut of despair again. There is an unnerving feeling when treatment ends. I felt like the aggressive part of the battle has ended and now it is a waiting game. Did we win? Did we achieve the goal of killing all of the bad cells? No one knows until the next scan.
The days of radiation came with risks too and as my skin started to burn and look as if I had laid out a little too long in the sun my mental state was continuing to wonder if I was going to be okay. It has been two full months since I stopped chemo and that is a fair chance for things to come back.
The end of radiation was yesterday. As I was lifted off of the radiation table the techs all clapped and one brought out a bubble jar and blew bubbles. The 21 bubble salute she called it as bubbles floated about me. I was laughing but wanted to cry too...it has been a long road. A year. I took this one step at a time with God by my side. I am glad I did. I could not have tackled all of the treatments by trying to control things or wanting to figure out what was going to happen before it happened. I knew that everything was out of my control and I had to let go and let God. I remember walking out of the doctor's office from a three week check up and threw my hands up in the air, "I give this to you God!" I proclaimed. "I cannot do this by myself!" I remember sitting in my car crying. I did not know what was going to happen. I was bald, with someone else's hair on my head, I was tired and achy, my eyes were watering from the cytosine and the tears flowed easier because I had no eye lashes. But each time I cried or felt like I could not handle things any longer, I heard a voice. It was inside of me. It kept saying "I am here." It was a whisper. I remember it would calm me down and the voice would say, "Keep moving forward." I would then remember who I was doing this for, my family. They needed me and so I would carry on.
Yesterday as I walked out of the radiation room and into the lobby with the techs behind me to see me ring the bell, my family stood in front of me. My husband and my son were there and we rang the bell together. The end of this part of the journey is now complete. But the lessons from this journey are to be documented and remembered.