Where have you been? Where are you going? And why?
It was during Thanksgiving week that I received my latest results: Clear for another month. This, of course, came after two hours at the hospital that could have been sixty minutes shorter. Oh well. There is much to be thankful for.
Sitting amidst the cancer clinic is like being told, “You’re not home yet” over and over and over. Brokenness lives on that hospital floor. A woman with a deformed, cancer-ridden face sat a few seats to my left. She quietly discussed Green Bay Packer football with two companions. Life was normal for her, except for the grapefruit bulging out of her cheek that slurred her speech a bit. Later, I watched the remains of a man pushed out on a cart. He resembled one of those stickmen you used to sketch before your drawings were fed well.
The funny thing about all this is that I somehow create a separation between myself and “them”. I’m not like them. Not as hopeless. Not as desperate. I might have cancer, but I couldn’t ever be in their stages. Never like them.
Life is tragic.
I don’t want to face it. But sometimes, the evidence is too overwhelming to ignore. I was told this week that I’m due for another surgery. Evidently, through the cancer process, x-rays revealed something abnormal in my kidney area that needs to be fixed. Not fixing would lead to probable kidney failure fifteen years down the road. I meet with the doc this week to hear more. What’s known, however, is that I’ll probably have surgery next summer. One with a 4-6 week recovery. Ugh.
We wonder what God’s up to. I’ve never been one to be sick or hospitalized. But by next July, I’ll have experienced two major surgeries and been to the hospital for check-ups at least nineteen times.
Of course, all that speculation assumes I have tomorrow.