He whispers in my ear, “You aren’t even a woman. Look at those scars. No shape. No form. You’ve gain weight again… Who would want you?” He adds to my mounting insecurities as if he’s seen the reflection of my warped perception.
He sits on my sore spine, my burden shoulders, my swollen arm, my numb hands as if he knows exactly where to press his sharp talons on that one particular spot that makes me want to tear into the next person who says to me, “You look great! How are you feeling?”
He reminds me of the friend who said to me, “Why haven’t you invited us to your house?” or the close confidant who often reminded me that “You make time for what’s important to you.” He’s right there, flicking me on the side of my head, saying “How could you have forgotten that? You’re so stupid. All you’re doing is failing. You’re such a failure. You can’t do anything right…”
I haven’t written in a couple of months and to be honest, I don’t want to write even now for multiple reasons, but if you’ve walked the path that I am walking then you understand and if you haven’t walked this path, well then, words and time are insufficient to explain…
These last 2 months have been the hardest. The mental battle wages fiercely and I have withdrawn to fight for every sane thought that allows me to go to my merciful and faithful I-AM and grasp at the hem of His garment just so that I move forward towards Him and away from the great Deceiver who is prowling, as he whispers my failures, waiting expectantly for me to let go. I am exhausted mentally. Physically, I just do the next thing: get up, move forward, do what needs to be done, rest, get up, move forward, do the next thing…
I grieve the loss of what was suppose to be.
As Princess Pink so adequately stated, “I just want us to be a normal family.” We all grieve the loss of what was suppose to be… We’ve made arrangements for the girls to have the opportunity to express their grief to a counselor. At the first meeting, the counselor asked Princess Pink what she wanted from her, her response: “I want you to take cancer away.” Sitting there weeping, all I could feel was my failures of not being able to protect my blessed little family from… my cancer.
Who do you know that is grieving the loss of what was suppose to be?
My blessed little family lives in the bubble of isolation right now… We share our burdens with each other, but there is no one else in our circle of people who knows exactly what we grieve. We long to have someone with whom we can sit in the safety of their embrace and weep out our grief completely. Someone who will not tell us that everything is going to be okay… Just someone who will love us, shelter us in the comfort of their embrace and say, “I’m here. Just cry…”
I go for a routine CT scan on Friday. This is what I will do for the rest of my life: a scan every 6 months or so checking to see if my cancer is stable or progressing.
In February, I had 2 MRI’s to see if my hand/wrist/arm issues were cancer related or something else. Except for formally diagnosing me with mild Chiari Malformation Type 1, there is no definitive answer for the issues that I have been dealing with since the middle of November. The best guess they could offer was neuropathy from the chemo treatments in 2015. Mild lymphedema has set in on my left arm from the lymph node dissection in 2015. I am not able to wear my wedding rings on that hand. I continue to take sleeping medicine to combat the insomnia and lessen my awareness of the hand cramping and numbness/ tingling issues that wake me from my sleep. I take pain medicine at night all the time now and if the night was more difficult than usual, I end up taking a dose of pain medicine during the day.
There are good days.
There are hard days.
There are ugly days.
But ALL those days are His days and so I hide in Him because…
He is my refuge.
He is my Comforter.
He is my I-AM.
And as I cling to Him, He teaches me to trust Him…
not past tense trust,
not future tense trust,
just present tense trust: NOW.
Do you trust Him?