About a year and a half ago, my oncologist called to tell me that I had about six months to live. The latest chemotherapy we had tried did not work and she felt we were out of ideas. We had already tried SO much and she felt like it was time to face reality. At the time, I had several friends tell me how cruel it was that she put it so bluntly. That no doctor should call on the phone and say it as harshly as she did. But I disagreed with them. I knew why she had stated it so matter of factly. Because up until that moment, I refused to believe my cancer diagnosis was a death sentence.
I refused to listen to statistics. I didn't want to hear that a treatment had a certain percentage rate of success. I didn't want to hear how much time I had if such and such medication worked (or didn't work, which was often the case). I kept insisting that God was in control of all this and it didn't matter what the numbers said. I knew this from experience from our infertility journey and I just COULDN'T let the numbers dictate my path.
There was a point in our battle to have our son that the nurse called me with bad news about some blood work. I can remember it clear as day; it's etched into my memory (previously for bad reasons, but now as a reminder of how NOT to react). She was letting me know that my egg quality was very bad and at that point the fertility clinic didn't think there was any chance we'd have our own child. In fact, she alluded to the fact that they were doing me a favor by keeping me on as a patient. My odds were that bad. I lost it, completely fell apart. Sank to the ground and just balled my eyes out. My husband came home from work and that's where he found me - just curled up on the floor with the phone still in my hand. That news from the nurse just about destroyed me. I took it as FACT, not just their opinion based on one number. And I found myself giving up. If they said it wasn't going to happen, well, I guess it wasn't.
As gut wrenching of a memory that is for me, I hold on to it now because I CAN NOT let myself react the same way to my cancer. I'm terrible about looking at the glass half empty instead of half full. If I hear something has only a 50% chance of working, I will hear "that means it has a 50% chance of failing". And when I start worrying, that worry takes away my focus and it takes away some of my 'fight'. And for those that have dealt with a serious disease or illness, you know that your mental state is almost more important than the treatments/medications you take.
But my refusal to hear the statistics of where I was in my cancer battle is what led my doctor to call that day. She felt I needed to know that I only had six months left. She felt it was critical for me to start planning for the inevitable. In her eyes, I needed to get my will done, get my husband all the information on my life insurance, basically get my affairs in order. She felt like I had lived with blinders on for too long and it was time to face the cold, hard truth. Even though I kept telling her that it was God's plan, not hers, she saw that as being in denial. She took my faith as burying my head in the sand. So, she got blunt with me...really blunt.
Instead of believing her and giving up, I contacted my pastor and asked for a prayer/healing service. I posted the news on Facebook and asked everyone to pray. I know I came across as quite hysterical, but I knew it was time to bring in the big guns. Not because the doctor was right but because I knew God and His people could heal me. I'd seen it happen with us being given Alex. And if He could give us a baby, He could certainly clear my body from this disease.
A few months after that prayer/healing service, I found out that I was in remission. Praise God! Unfortunately, as you know, the cancer has returned in a different location. So, does that mean I give up? No. Does that mean I believe God has given up on me? No. Does that mean I need to start worrying about how much time I have left? No. As my pastor loves to quote: "one out of one people die". It's a fact. We all are technically dying from the moment we are born. It's not something we can stop; it's inevitable.
I know some friends and family members believe that I should be preparing Alex just in case the worst does happen. And I absolutely respect your opinion. But it's just not the way I choose to handle this. He does not know his mother has cancer. And until it's ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that the end is upon us, he will not know. I want his childhood as untarnished by this disease as humanly possible. I want him to be thinking about baseball and church and choir and friends and camping and Spring Break and whether or not his hair looks good today. I do not want him worrying about his Mommy. It's my job to worry about him, not the other way around.
So, at this point, do I know what the future holds? Nope. Do I have any idea what my life expectancy is at this point? I have the same knowledge of this as the rest of you reading this blog. I could get killed in a car accident, I could have an allergic reaction to something, I could get hit by a foul ball at the baseball fields, I could fall down a flight of stairs (yes, I'm really clumsy), I could have a heart attack or maybe, just maybe I could pass away from cancer at some unknown time way in the future. I just don't know. And call it denial or call it faith, but I'm completely okay with that. The future holds what it will hold....
Thank you everyone for all your prayers. God bless you and have a fantastic day!
