Life is way scarier these days than I remember it. I remember sitting on our swing just a few days after surgery back in July and wondering how I was ever going to trust my body with normal aches, pains, and sickness again. And now I’m 6 months out and I still don’t know. More times than I care to admit, I’ve caught myself thinking I have a secondary cancer or that Glanda has returned on simple days where I have a regular headache or days when I just don’t feel 100%. Is that totally irrational? Yes. Do I know that? Yes. Does it still happen? Sure does. And many people will tell you that’s the normal progression of being a cancer survivor.
Cancer touches your life once, and it instantly reminds of your mortality and it’s continual ability (not definitive ability) to take breath, life, and love from our earthly bodies. And if I’m honest, I haven’t totally figured out the balance of everything yet. I haven’t figured out how to be ok with the fact that IF cancer is what takes me from this earth, that heaven is far better than the things I think I would miss here. I haven’t figured out why cancer is so much scarier than getting in a car, when a car accident is far more likely to take my life than my diagnosis (especially with my particular prognosis) But first and foremost, I’m trying to be ok with the fact that I don’t have it all figured out.
I have a habit of being extra, super hard on myself. (I can probably blame my 13+ years of dance for that) So I’m struggling lately knowing I don’t have things together in my heart and mind like I want them. I’m struggling past the 2 appointments I’ve had where the physicians tell me I’m doing really great and I look wonderfully healed up to be only a month and a half out of treatment. In the quieter moments, those visits slip my mind and crippling fear sets in.
So why say all this? Why write a whole post that sounds like complaining when I’m a cancer survivor, a healed body, and a life saved. Because I’m human, and I need you all to know that it’s not all sunshine and roses after treatment is over as you hope it might be. It’s still a fight to survive and stay healed…and that fight is more than just physical.
But please hear me when I say that I’m thankful. I would never go back to July and choose to do anything differently. I know with everything in me that the Lord has given me this adventure as my purpose and I know parts of it are well beyond my understanding. And I do know that heaven is far better than we what know and love on this earth. I will continue to fight despite how the fight feels sometimes. I will continue to pray when I feel the fear seeping in, and I will continue to inform and encourage anyone else that finds themselves on this treacherous journey.
The Lord is good. Always. He is faithful, and He is merciful. He is sovereign. He is our shelter and our provision. And he is capable of doing abundantly more than we could ever ask or dream. And at the end of the day, I hope you hear that in my heartbeat. Struggle is a part of life, but that’s why we need Jesus more than ever in this fallen world.