Living with cancer

Obviously, my own cancer makes me remember in a keen way the journey we traveled 16 years ago with Dave's cancer. Add to that a friend whose husband is battling cancer, and another who is living with metastatic disease, and several more friends in various stages of the battle, and things I have long forgotten are rushing back to me in a fresh, clear way.

This morning I have been remembering the difference between dying of cancer and living with cancer. This is an important difference. There may come a time to die of cancer, but the more difficult calling is to live with cancer. It really does come down to relinquishing the last vestiges of our control, and letting God be God in our lives and deaths. This is all well and good in the abstract, and a real challenge in the here and now.

I was remembering this morning the time that Dave was doing chemotherapy in Los Alamos after our return here from treatments in Houston. He wanted to go on travel for work even though he had NO (read ZERO) white blood cells. I tried everything: reasoning, arguing, crying. Because, of course, it is foolish to spend time in the recirculated air of an airplane with dozens of strangers when you cannot fight infection of any kind, right? I was getting no where with Dave. He eventually agreed to take it to his oncologist for a final decision, and I agreed to abide by the decision of the doctor. The doc asked Dave, "Will you wear a mask and refrain from eating or drinking in the airports?" And Dave said, "Sure!". And that was that. He could go. I couldn't believe my ears! Then the oncologist reminded me that Dave's desire to live his life, carry on with "normal" activities, was just as important to his recovery as the other stuff we were doing.

I began to see the application of this to several things I deemed as "stupid" activities from Dave at the time: running with neuropathy in his feet that made him fall, working a half-day after extremely toxic chemotherapy treatments, fighting to stay awake at night until at least 10:00 when he was exhausted. I realized he was living with cancer instead of dying from it. Yet again, he became my hero.

So, this morning I want to promise the Lord I will live with cancer as long as it is my calling. I am not sure what that will look like, nor if I have the courage to do it. But I know I can do all things in Christ, who strengthens me, and I know He has prepared this road for me, and its end is secure. What more can I ask?