[Today is the five-year mark, since my cancer surgery in 2011. I am going to share a few posts from that year, and one other post. As you may know, the five-year anniversary for any cancer patient is a noteworthy day. So, in my own way I am marking it by living and breathing and testifying of my dear God and heavenly Father, Jehovah, who has shown me great kindness.]
Second post in this series: FIRST PUBLISHED October 12, 2011
This is the moment I first realized I might have cancer.
We were at the intersection, getting ready to turn. We had been looking for an address, not a building.
Cancer is a very big word, but there it was, right there on the side of the building, for everyone to see. Why aren’t they being more discreet? We turned the corner—there it was, again! Everywhere. CANCER!
Once we were inside the building, I began noticing the people. Scarf-covered heads. Pale and fragile people, walking as though they were measuring every step. A lot of blank expressions, a lot of bowed heads. Did we all have something in common? Was I like them?
The visit was surreal. I felt like I was floating through the whole experience. I really think the Lord just gave me the grace to get through it. My only prayer before leaving our car was that I just not start crying, and I didn’t. In fact, I feel pretty relieved. So does Doug. We have a lot of confidence in the surgeon.
This may sound strange, but I was glad he was horrified by how large the mass is, and was eager to remove it. I will have an extremely long incision,* because the mass extends up so far, but it will be so good to have it gone. It keeps growing, you see, and I feel very much like a pregnant woman in her 10th month. He says surgery will be within two weeks. “As soon as possible.”
As for it being cancerous. I will probably know tomorrow. He took a blood sample for a CA-125 test. Of course, I am hoping this is not cancer, but I know it might be. Ovarian cancer happens. I really don’t want it to happen to me, but if it’s going to happen I can’t imagine a better place to be for treatment.
Cancer is a very big word. I know God is not intimidated by it at all, so I am just going to trust that He knows what’s best. I will find peace with God on this, because…well, He’s God. He’s the one in charge. When I said, “I surrender all,” He took me seriously, and I’m so thankful He did!
I know I can trust Him.
“If God asks that you bend, bend and do not complain.
He is making you more flexible, and for this be thankful.”
”Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well.”
(John Greenleaf Whittier)
*I woke up this morning feeling pain at my incision. It was a strange
sensation to wake up to on this particular day. Not to worry, though:
a nurse told me I wouldlike feel those little twinges for a very long time.