I’ve been reading a lot about oligodendroglioma, regrowth, medical advances, and survival statistics. I went through my medical bills today to look at what they did in that operating room (which is fascinating). What I remembered as I was going through this was how stressed out I was before I went back and how absolutely grateful to God I was alive once I woke up. I remember once I opened my eyes (or once I was coherent enough to remember) praising God for the miracle of waking up. I look back every now and then on pictures and realize how hard it was and how far I’ve come in 7 weeks.
The broken pieces cancer leaves behind
Trials come in life. Trials come in all shapes and sizes. If you’re in that spot where your spouse (or a friend or family member) is dealing with tough things, sickness, etc., talk about it. It’s okay to cry, yell, and ask questions like I did that suck and are hard and nasty to admit. Honor that time with yourself and with your relationships.
The next chapter
Last week, we received the news that we were expecting. The tumor in my brain was confirmed as Grade 2 cancer, Specifically an oligodendroglioma.
The songs I’m listening to
Here’s a list of all of my favorite songs right now, carrying me through!
Fear is real, but God is a lion
For me, brain surgery is scary. There is real fear in this. All of my joking aside, there’s a real part of me that is actually terrified. I know God has this, yes. I know God has a plan, yes. However, that doesn’t stop my human emotions from standing on the sideline yelling, “Hey! We’re over here!”
It kind of reminded me current day and how we as humans (not just Americans) are really turning a blind eye to so much. Where are we when our neighbor needs help? We are so quick to call out each others shortcomings or lay blame, but no one is helping. Even as Christians, we say “I’ll pray for you,” but it’s become such a quick comeback to make ourselves look mightier than thou. And shame on us, for that.
Seeds of Doubt
Today has been a messy, doubt-filled day. I feel like giving up. I feel tired. I’m weary and I’m emotional. I am worn out and I am struggling to see God’s plan or understand the goodness this cancer can bring. I am overwhelmed.
I know these are thoughts sown by the devil himself and in that, I reject these thoughts. But it doesn’t stop my flesh from experiencing them. It also doesn’t make it any easier.
Sunday, I had my first seizure. I’m still unsure if it was a seizure though the doctor says yes, but the symptoms point towards that. What I experienced that night felt a lot like a night terror/sleep paralysis, too. What I do know is that in the middle of the night, my heart rate shot up and I felt completely paralyzed.
What does it mean to “be still?” When I think of it in the way I define the English words, it means to stop moving, pause, hold. But as I read further into this verse, I learned that the Hebrew word used in this verse literally translates to “let go” or “cease striving.”
Cancer sucks. Those around me know my strong, independent will. They know I’m a fighter, and I’ll stand at cancer’s door, ready to take on the world. There’s another side to me, too. I’m a mom. I’m a wife. I’m a sister. I’m a daughter. And I’m scared.