Tag Archives: cancer

Prayer Request

I know this blog is normally a creative outlet and a place where Christianity, poetry, super-heroes, and thoughts are shared, but this post is different. I have 293 followers and I would like to use you to help for something very important.

Please pray. Please pray for my friend’s great niece who is only seven years old and was diagnosed with Leukemia on Friday. The doctors think that they caught the cancer early and the girl — Emma Lockhart — has been healthy up to this point so that should help with her treatment. She has already started chemotherapy and is doing well. When my friend asked if she could do anything to help, the girl’s mom said that she wanted to yell from the hilltops for prayer, so my friend said that she would tell everyone she knew to pray. Please pray.

Dear Lord, give this family and especially Emma Your strength. Give them Your peace that surpasses understanding. Be their light during their of darkness. Comfort them and let them feel your presence. Guide the doctors and the nurses and all the health care professionals in making decisions and treating Emma. 

We know that everything works accordingly for the good of those who love You and though this is not good, You can make it good. Lord, we only see tangled threads of life, but You see the big picture. Bless this family and work Your will in their lives. 

Keep this family’s focus on You for You are the master miracle worker. Heal Emma and help her in her treatment. Thank You for medical advances that can save this girl’s life, but thank You most importantly for being a caring God and working in our lives. Please work in this girl’s life, save her. In Your words we put our hope and trust. Amen.

A Dying Stranger

I’m going to die.

I know that will die eventually, but that eventually came too soon. 60 years too soon. The fact of death doesn’t scare me. The pain of death, kind of does. What scares me is the fact that I had a life. And now it is over. Went through elementary school to get to middle school to get to high school to get to collage to have a nice job to have a nice family to have a nice life to have a nice retirement to have a nice death.

Death arrived early to the party. And death brought a friend, Cancer.

The fact that I built up my life and all I got was school, I didn’t even get as far as the nice job part, it seems like I wasted 20 years. I was so sure that I was going to get to that nice job, family, retirement part that I only focused on that. With my nose to the grind, my eyes on the prize, and my heart in a box. I spent 20 pushing people away.

And now I have no one left, except my friends Cancer and Death.

I look around at my alumni – the ones who could have been my friends – who have their whole life ahead of them. They have girlfriends and boyfriends to smile with and laugh with and hold hands with. They have parents to get guidance from and to get love from and to get encouragement from.

They lived.

I existed, waiting to live, so that eventually I could die.

I thought that I had so much potential that I had so much to live for, that I could spend 20 years to get ready. I thought that I had my whole lifetime ahead of me to make relationships.

They have love in their eyes and that makes the loneliness all the more prominent in mine. Their hearts are full of verve and zeal and that makes the enervation and depletion all the more evident in mine. They always have a tint of a smile on their face and that makes the stoic unbelief radiate from mine.

The world is ending. Except only mine is. Their worlds will go on forever. My apocalypse is coming and I don’t even get last moments to panic with the rest of the world. In all the science-fiction movies when the world is ending, everyone looks up at the sky, all huddled together. They get to see the world end. They get to have others with the same fate as them.

Their world will go on and mine will halt, crash, and burn. Their world will keep on spinning like nothing ever happened. Their world will not even flick off the ash of my smoldering, dead world.

Their potential, their future, their lives, mock, haunt, taunt me.

This is the bitterest kind of envy. I am jealous for what they do not appreciate. I long for what they do not know they have. Potential for moments.

Yes, I will have many more moments, but those moments will be spent in sterile hospital rooms in a thin paper gown on crinkly white medical paper surrounded by unknown people with over-glorified pity for college kid they know will be six feet under soon enough. I will spend my last moments surrounded by sick and dying people, surrounded by others trying to cover it up. I will be surrounded by people faking optimism, people telling me that I can fight the death warrant that  has been signed in my cells.

Those people who are lying to me, they seem to be my best chance. I desperately want to cling to the hope they have spread out before me.  I let hope and possibility and chance hold me in their hands, trying to soothe my aching soul. I let them tell me that tomorrow I will be okay, I let them tell me that the day after tomorrow I will be okay, I let them tell me that five years from now I will be okay.  I’m starving for some assurance that I will get through this. I’m going through hunger pangs yearning for something to believe in. My growling stomach calls out for a promise, a promise that I didn’t waste my life, that I will have the potential for moments other than in a sterile hospital. In my delirium, I begin to trust in the comforting hands of hope and possibility and chance.

I don’t know which is worse: knowing I’m going to die alone or hoping that I might not. Hoping that I might have someone by my side when the reaper comes. Hoping that the reaper might not come at all. Hoping that cancer might change its mind and come back when I’m old and gray, instead.

But when I have hope then that is one more thing that death can take from me. By losing hope I feel the pain of losing everything all over again. Because all I have left is hope. Hope in something that will never happen.

I am going to die. Cancer is going to make its last attack. My world is going to end. My hope is going to be taken from me. And there is nothing I can do to stop it.

 

 

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Pixabay/user:cor125

Cancer Saved Her Life

Cancer: it destroys organs, normal lives, families. This disease, that we as a society know all too well, starts in our cells and ends with one less person in the annual Christmas card. Dealing with cancer is consumed with Chemo, hair loss, and white blood cell counts, but in some cases there is something more than just mutating cells.

I was four when my Grandma was first diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. Her whole adult life, she was plagued with depression, only seeing the incorrect brush strokes of life’s big picture. But cancer changed her. I grew up seeing my grandmother enduring hours of chemotherapy and starting to regularly attend my church. With hair loss came losing the importance of utmost perfection in her life. When counting white blood cells, blessings were counted too. On her long and twisted journey to becoming a better person, the cancer was always there, lurking. But I think that was what pushed her forward.

Cancer often ends lives, but with my Grandma’s diagnosis she started a new one. Sometimes the darkest moments in our lives are the ones most needed. Cancer is horrible, scary and degrading, but as my Grandma used to always say ‘you can either laugh or cry’ and she laughed with a passion. This depressing, distressing, dismal disease can be either heartbreaking or heart-making.

Her journey ended, but she was glad to be able to have nine years to see her three granddaughters grow up and have the time to grow in her faith. When life sentences us with a last chance, it can be viewed as a second chance.


Published in Creative Communications Spring 2016 Essay Contest

 

Remembering You

White polyester shirts

freshly painted walls

rhubarb pie

playing Rummie and Mexican train

scooter-ing

coffee time

cancer treatments

cream pants

rough, strong hands

dead frog

clean house

heart felt praise

dinner parties

rushing about

powdered face

work clothes

generous

determination

Happy Birthday, Grandma

Hope your enjoying Heaven


Grandma